A different type of doctor
by nonyvole
Summary: Bruce was happy. Then Clint showed up on his front porch.
1. Chapter 1

Doctor Bruce Banner really doesn't know medicine. Post-Avengers movie. Many thanks to the lovely folks over at TBB for catching my mistakes.

* * *

"Look," Bruce waved his hands in frustration. "I am a doctor, yes, but I have my PhD in _nuclear physics_. I do not have a degree in medicine of any form. So why are you asking me this?"

"You were acting as a medical doctor when Nat found you, figured you could at least take a look?" Clint leaned against the counter in Bruce's kitchen.

"Yes, for people that could barely afford to feed themselves. It wasn't like I was performing surgery, I was using basic first aid training and a few textbooks that were positively ancient. When I could get to an internet café, I'd look things up online. Half the time they paid me in a spot at their table for dinner." Bruce sighed, carefully not looking at the blood dripping down Clint's arm or the mess he was making. "You want that thing fixed since it might need stitches, the best place is somewhere with people who have medical training. Like the urgent care clinic, and not my kitchen." He glanced around the room. "I don't even have a first aid kit here. Best I can offer you are some paper towels."

"I'll take it." Clint shrugged. "Don't have any sort of ID or proof of insurance on me, so guess I'll wait until my flight back to the Helicarrier in a few days."

"You have nothing." Bruce just stared at Clint. "At all."

"Well," Clint looked thoughtful, digging through his pockets. "I have some subway tokens for the New York subway, some cash, and…hey. Credit card." He flipped it over, staring at the name. "Guess I can offer to pay Simonson back? Do I even know a James Simonson? Wonder if this still works."

Bruce sighed, reaching for the cell phone that Clint had dropped on the counter. "Does this have Agent Romanoff in here?"

"Nat? Yeah. Why?" Clint's eyes narrowed. "You're not telling her." He reached for his phone.

Bruce grabbed it right before Clint could. "Yes, I am." Stepping away from the archer, he scrolled through the contact list. "Agent Barton, why do you have the White House in here? And the CIA?"

"Might be an assassin, but I do have other stuff to do, or else I'd just be sitting around a good chunk of the time." Clint was eying the distance between him and Bruce, trying to work out if he could reach the physicist and reclaim his phone without Bruce going all big and green on him. He honestly doubted Bruce would appreciate destroying this neighborhood. It was…relaxing.

"That's nice." Bruce had found Natasha's number. "Hello, Agent Romanoff? Bruce Banner. I have a question for you. Agent Barton needs some medical care. No, I am _not_ a medical doctor, no matter what you found me doing; I wish people would understand that. He's saying that he doesn't have ID or any way to pay for said medical care, outside of a credit card which may or may not still work and isn't his." He paused and held out the phone. "Here. She wants to talk to you."

Clint took the phone, wincing slightly at the barrage of noise coming from the speaker. "Nat, it was an accident, honest. It's just, the tree was wet because it's currently pouring down rain here, I'm wearing sneakers because my boots were destroyed, and there was something sticking out of the tree that got my arm on the way down. And you know how long it's been since I had a decent night's...oh." He walked over to the door, kicking his duffel towards Bruce. "Hey, doc, open this up and pull out my quiver, would you? Nat, Doctor Banner is checking. Yeah, that's it, doc." As Bruce set the quiver down on the counter, Clint reached out and pressed a small button. "Well, I'll be damned. Thanks, Nat. I'd wondered why I couldn't find anything before I left. Now I know. And sorry for not emptying it out – do you have enough to last you until I get back? Okay, good. And stop laughing, or else I'll tell people about that little trip to Utah. I think I've still got pictures." Putting his phone down, he reached into the cavity that had opened and pulled out a small stack of cards that were held together with a rubber band.

"So, would you like a ride, or just directions?" Bruce caught sight of a driver's license.

"Huh?" Clint was busy sorting through the cards, putting them in two messy piles. "Huh. Guess I should probably try to remember to empty this out after missions."

"The urgent care clinic?" Bruce was wondering if all SHIELD agents were like this. If they were, he feared for the world. "For your arm?"

"Oh, that." Clint shrugged. "I was just going to beg a ride to the store, get some gauze to toss on it." Wandering over to the sink, he worked his arm out of his sleeve and stuck it under the water, rinsing off the blood and awkwardly twisting around to try to see how deep the cut was. "Or yeah, a ride to the doctor might be nice, just to double check." Moving back to his bag, he crouched down and pulled out a change of clothes. "Where's the bathroom? I'd like to wear something a little bit drier."

Silently, Bruce pointed at a door, watching as Clint sauntered off. Letting his curiosity get the better of him, he started looking through the two piles Clint had made. "Interesting," he muttered. "Wonder why Agent Romanoff has things in here, too."

"My quiver is safer than a wallet sometimes." Clint's hand reached around, grabbing the cards. "And I know you saw how Nat dresses when she's working. Nowhere to really keep much in that getup. Or my uniform, either."

"When I first met Agent Romanoff, she was wearing a sari." Bruce shook his head, reaching for his car keys. "I'll give you a ride, and you can tell me why you were trying to climb the tree next to my house. And why you're here."

"SHIELD just wants to keep an eye on you, doc. Make sure you're still doing okay, don't need anything, and that Ross is still leaving you alone. We've managed to tie him up pretty well, but we're still concerned. I volunteered, was just going to climb a tree and sleep in your attic, but then I…slipped." Clint carefully sat in the passenger seat, trying to not lean back.

"Oh." Bruce didn't find the idea that he was being watched quite as disturbing as he had in the past. "Next time, knock. I've got a couch. A phone call would be nice, too. Tony Stark gave me one of his phones, said it was because he wanted to exchange ideas, but he's an engineer and I'm a physicist, so I really don't know why."

Clint shrugged. "Okay. I'll make a note in your file. Jasper was saying that it was getting harder to track you without being seen, so that'll be nice. And maybe Stark just wanted somebody to spout off at who stood a chance at understanding him. I don't think most people do, and he's been having a tough time of it recently, if you haven't been watching the news. Think the Loki thing really hit him hard. Try calling him when you get the chance."

"Jasper?" Bruce was trying to rework his impressions of the SHIELD agents he had met to reconcile with what the past half hour had shown him.

"Sitwell. Bald guy, glasses, was probably glued to a computer on the bridge when you were there; sometimes I wonder if he even uses his quarters. We had him tracking you since slightly before Rio, once it looked like you had become pretty good at hiding and our junior agents weren't able to cut it. Gave him a bit of a scare when you went all big and green and he couldn't find you again until Mexico, then he started following you to Culver. Sent Nat in then and recalled Jasper, partially because he was needed with Thor's deal in New Mexico and partially because Ross was getting antsy and had pulled in that Blonsky guy who records showed was never one to back down from a fight. And in a firefight, you'd rather have Nat there. Jasper's good, but I wouldn't put him up against the Air Force. He's actually circled through a few times over the past year, but he was needed for something else this week. I was free, so I came."

Pulling into the parking lot of a strip mall and parking, Bruce turned to look at Clint. "How do you know all this? I thought you were an assassin." He pointed at the sign for the clinic.

"Like I said," Clint started to climb out of the car. "I do more than just kill people for a living." Turning around, he leaned in through the door, tossing his jacket on the seat. "And hey, do me a favor? Don't pull a runner until after I've gotten my stuff? Thanks."

As the door slammed shut, Bruce just leaned back in his seat, trying to analyze his feelings. He should have known that somebody would have been watching him; the Other Guy wasn't something that anybody wanted out of their control. After his experiences with SHIELD, he wasn't sure if he was happy that they were the ones keeping an eye on him, or if he would have preferred that it be the Air Force. He knew where he stood with them, or with General Ross, at least. SHIELD, he really had no clue. "Getting complacent, Banner," he muttered to himself, then sat there, staring at nothing.

"Hey." Clint's voice made Bruce jump slightly, and he turned to see the other man tensed up, one hand on the door handle and the other reaching for what Bruce suspected was a weapon.

"Sorry," Bruce smiled. "I was thinking. Don't worry about the Other Guy coming out to play, Agent Barton; he's been pretty quiet recently."

"Okay." Clint relaxed. "Is there a drug store near here? And what the hell, I'll buy you dinner for putting up with this." Giving Bruce a wry grin, he nodded. "Not bad enough for stitches, just bled a lot and they didn't believe that I got a tetanus shot last month, so one of those." He rubbed his arm, shaking his head. "And please, call me Clint. Keep on calling me Agent Barton and people'll start to wonder why a university professor is hanging out with a government employee."

"Bruce." Bruce nodded, starting the car again. "There's a good pizza place, I know the owner."

* * *

Over what the restaurant owner swore was the best pizza in all of Virginia, Bruce gave Clint a thoughtful stare. "Is SHIELD why I was able to get my job back?"

"Yep, but sorry that they wouldn't give you your tenure back too." Clint nodded. "I think it was pointed out that yeah, you were an idiot for putting yourself in that machine, but nobody had expected the end result, and you were only following the wishes of the United States Air Force, more specifically a General who then overstepped his boundaries and had zero common sense. Said General was also the reason that the Hulk encouraged the remodeling of a section of Culver University, and a fairly generous gift was sent anonymously to help cover repairs." He smiled. "According to my sources, it was roughly equivalent to a couple years' pay for somebody like Ross. Plus," he paused, taking a bite of pizza, "two years does a lot for helping people's memories start to gloss over. Manhattan didn't hurt, either."

"Was that to keep them in my good graces?" Bruce was feeling suspicious over the entire situation.

"Who, SHIELD? Partially." Clint didn't feel bad about freely admitting that. SHIELD needed Bruce Banner happy, and the reports had suggested that he'd be happiest back at Culver with nobody obviously following him. "Never know when we could use a nuclear physicist who is, admittedly, an expert in gamma radiation. Not to mention, one who,"

"One who can turn into a gigantic green monster that only knows how to destroy everything in its path?" Bruce interrupted with a bitter smile.

"Was actually going to say one who has a genius-level IQ, knew exactly how to track down an item of immense importance with barely a moment to prepare, and then was able to find said item in, what, a day and a half? If that?" Clint didn't look surprised at Bruce's interruption. "Does Fury appreciate the Hulk? Yeah, the way he appreciates having a nuke or two on board. But I've also heard him admit that you, Doctor Bruce Banner, PhD which does not equal medical doctor, are incredibly valuable to SHIELD for your knowledge and scientific abilities. It is in SHIELD's best interest to keep you happy, so we did everything that we could think of to make you happy." He pointed at Bruce with his pizza crust. "And so, are you happy?"

"Oh. I…see." Bruce blinked, startled. "I'm happy enough, I guess?"

"Good." Clint nodded in satisfaction. "And you'll let us know if you're not, right?"

"Well," Bruce started, "I'm not entirely sure if I'd rather it was SHIELD or the Air Force following me around if somebody had to be keeping an eye on me, but I am glad to have gotten my old job back." He laughed lightly. "Suddenly, people are a lot less inclined to tell me no, and students seem to have an amazing tendency to actually turn their homework in on time with fewer complaints."

"We do try to keep our distance. Ideally, you wouldn't have even known I was there, and I would have been in and out in three days, tops." Clint figured that Bruce didn't need to know that they had his house wired. Sitwell was just sitting around doing nothing, but there was something interfering with the signals and so Clint had been told to go figure it all out.

"Did your plans include making me think I had mice?" Bruce looked archly across the table. "Haven't met anybody who would go without food or water for that long voluntarily."

"I came prepared." Clint nodded. "I have some MREs with me, bottles of water, and there are stores within walking distance. My phone has some pretty sweet games on it, too."

"That's…different," was all that Bruce could say. "And you were going to do all that willingly?"

"It's an attic." Clint shrugged. "Could be worse."

Driving back to Bruce's house, Bruce had to restrain his laughter at the conversation he could hear Clint having. "Look, Nat, you know why I came. Do you think that Jasper…yeah. Yeah. Well, tell Fury that I've moved onto plan B and maybe even C by now, and I'm keeping to the schedule. Look, go bug Hill or somebody; I don't have access to a computer to look that stuff up right now." Clint suddenly sat straight up. "He did what? Oh, the idiot. I'm surprised that Blake didn't hurt him, especially after the last time. Blake called him _what_? Yeah. I'll check in tomorrow." He sagged back in his seat, rubbing his eyes. "Idiots."

"Am I allowed to ask what that was, or am I better off not knowing?"

"You wouldn't know anybody involved." Clint shook his head. "Or the backstories. It's all just work gossip, nothing important."

* * *

Clint calmly cleaned up the mess he had made of the kitchen, while Bruce searched around for a spare pillow and blanket. "Don't bother," Clint's voice made Bruce jump. "I have a sleeping bag."

"Bell. I think you need a bell." Bruce turned around. "Would you just, not do that?"

"Sorry." Clint actually looked a little ashamed. "Do you mind if I hook something up to your TV? I can offer basic cable. Premium channels and anything with decent movies will cost you extra. Nat told me that I needed to check out the news."

"Sure, as long as I don't get people knocking on my door asking why I'm suddenly getting the History Channel." Bruce nodded, following Clint to the living room.

"Nope." Clint was busy plugging his phone into the back of the TV. "It's all legit. Mostly. And outside of a few 24-hour news channels and Lifetime, this setup really doesn't get much." He glanced at Bruce with an amused smile. "Don't ask." A beep had him standing up and pulling a computer out of his duffel. Opening it, he frowned, looking around, then suddenly moved back, roughly pulling his phone free. "Bruce, where is the attic access?"

Holding back his questions, Bruce led Clint into his little-used attic. "Haven't been up here since I moved in…it's looking surprisingly clean."

"Yeah." Clint nodded, moving to a corner. Kneeling down, he pulled a section of wall back, reaching into the hole. "Damn. That explains it." He sat back on his heels, holding a handful of cut wires, eyes squeezed shut. "Okay. Doctor Banner, your assistance is officially requested with a small power problem that we've been having on the Helicarrier. Are you able to take a couple days and come give us your advice?" He held out his phone.

Moving closer, Bruce took it and read the screen. "Of, of course, Agent Barton. Although I'm not really sure how much help I'll be; isn't it all powered by one of Stark's reactors?"

"Only partially." Clint stood up, dropping the wires. "There's still enough for a guy like you to help tinker with and hopefully fix. I'd swear that we had gremlins or something on board. Could tell you stories about the showers."

"Interesting." Bruce held back his questions as to why Clint seemed to know exactly what he was looking for. "Let me grab a couple things, first."

"Okay." Clint nodded, standing up and following Bruce down the ladder. "Ten minutes?" He held up one hand. Five.

Bruce nodded, not saying a word when Clint continued to follow him as he reached into the back of his bedroom closet and pulled out a bag. He shrugged at Clint's surprised look. "Never know."

Clint nodded as the two men went into the living room. Quickly returning his computer to his bag, Clint picked it up, scrolling through his phone. "Hey Nat. So, turns out I'm a total klutz today. Managed to burn my hand when we were getting dinner, too. Yeah, I know." Turning, he jerked his head at the door. Following the unspoken order, Bruce headed for the car.

* * *

Pulling into a parking lot of an all-night diner, Bruce turned to look at Clint. "So, just what was that?"

Clint shook his head. "Grab your bag." He climbed out of the car, and Bruce watched as he carefully looked around, before picking up his bag. "Let's go." He headed towards a car, pulling out keys and popping the trunk. "Bruce, move it. We've a plane to catch. Your car'll be dealt with, somebody official is sending an e-mail to your boss and when we get to where we're going, I'll explain as much as I know." He tossed his bow and quiver behind the driver's seat, staring at Bruce until he slid into the passenger seat.

"How about you start explaining now?" Bruce kept his tone mild.

"No." Clint shook his head. "Not yet. It's not safe."

"Safe?" Bruce bitterly laughed. "You're talking to me about _safety_? The last time I was on the Helicarrier the Other Guy destroyed a portion of it and took out a fighter jet. I don't know if the pilot survived; nobody told me that in the debriefings."

"Yeah, and the _only_ reason you Hulked out was because _I_ blew up a damn engine and killed over a dozen of my coworkers, then shut down a second engine with a computer virus that _I_ helped design in an attempt to kill a few _thousand_." Clint snapped. "So do me a favor and _shut up_. And he survived; ended up a little cold and wet, but he was alive and still had all his body parts. Refuses to do anything but milk runs now, but that's okay."

"Oh." Bruce just turned and stared out the window until Clint pulled onto the University campus. "Is this the right place?"

"Yep." Clint was looking around, finally pulling into a visitor lot, before putting the car in park and pulling out his phone and dialing a number.

"I'm guessing that isn't to the White House." Bruce's joke made the corner of Clint's mouth turn up.

"Only as a last resort. Barton. Here. Time?" The response had Clint leaning his head against the steering wheel. "Dammit, _pick it up_, will you?" He roughly threw his phone down, then leaned back and took a couple deep breaths. "Okay. I'm calm. I'm damn tired, that's what I am. Bruce, keep an eye out for anything out of the norm, would you? I don't know this place well enough. Ride will be here in about ten minutes."

What followed were ten of the longest minutes that Bruce could remember happening in a while, but he followed Clint's instructions and kept carefully looking around. A noise had him looking behind the car. "I had forgotten that your planes don't need runways."

"VTOL is a wonderful thing." Clint was visibly back in control, and was reaching behind him for his bow and quiver. "So is the fact that these things can indeed do Mach 2.1, if the pilots ever understood just what urgent means. Sorry to be pushy about all this, but until we can figure out just what exactly is going on, you get a vacation. Don't think that mice have wire cutters." Jumping out of the car, he nodded at the men who were exiting the jet. "So. Doctor Banner. These are the guys who are going to be checking out your car, your office, your lab, and your house and prowling around for a little bit; if you'd be so nice as to give them your keys, they'll pick up your car and make sure the newspaper is brought in and any students dealt with. Rosco knows some physics." He looked around as Bruce quietly held out his keys. "The story. Picked up some abnormal signals. Checked our gear, somebody cut the wires and pulled our stuff. It probably happened about two weeks ago, based on when we lost communication with Doctor Banner's house. No idea who it is. Be on the lookout, but keep it quiet." With a jerk of his head, Clint led Bruce into the jet. "It's not paranoia if they really are out to get you," he muttered.

As the jet took off, Bruce sighed. "Now, what is going on?"

Clint turned around from where he was whispering with the pilots. "Not yet, Bruce."

Bruce stared at Clint. "Look. I get home to find you waiting for me on my front porch with blood dripping down your arm after falling out of a tree, you tell me that you were going to camp in my attic without me knowing, then haul me off with barely a word except a message on your phone that just says 'trouble, trust me.' Would you please explain?"

"I don't know how much I can say," Clint started, then sighed. "Okay. Part of the deal with keeping an eye on you was having some security stuff set up in your house, and yeah, we were watching things like your credit cards, bank account, and internet use just in case you decided to haul off again because you're really good at vanishing. Two weeks ago, we stopped getting information. It took until a couple days ago to have all that found out, because we were trying to keep an eye on several different things at once and, frankly, it looks like you just slipped through the cracks. I get told to go figure out what's wrong, and I make the mistake of wearing sneakers to try and climb a tree in the rain. When we got back to your house, my scanner detected that somebody else had planted bugs, which is why I went to check our transmission equipment. Wires were cut and stuff was missing, so somebody else had broken in and done all that." He looked steadily at Bruce. "If you have an idea about who might be interested in you other than Ross and would have the people with the skills to not only break into your house, but find shielded SHIELD equipment, now would be the time to start making a list. Shielded SHIELD. Heh." Sitting down, he shook his head. "Unless you've any other questions that need to be answered right now, please save getting upset until we arrive and you can try to talk with Fury or Hill or somebody who knows more than what your file told me. I haven't gotten nearly enough sleep in the past week and a half because I just finished one thing yesterday and was told to head out to check up on you as soon as I got on some clean clothes, so I'm going to crash until we get back."

Bruce watched as Clint slumped back against the side of the jet, closing his eyes. "Okay, then." Shaking his head, he pulled out his phone and started making a list of questions that he wanted answered. Starting with "just what the hell is going on, and who _are_ you people?"


	2. Chapter 2

Different people have different priorities. Poor Bruce.

* * *

When the jet landed, Bruce didn't move as he watched Natasha calmly enter and sit down next to Clint. She leaned over and whispered in Clint's ear; jumping slightly as he woke up, Clint shook his head. "Thanks, Nat," was all that he said, taking the cup she handed him and leaving the jet without another word.

"Doctor Banner," and here Natasha was looking at Bruce closely, Clint's quiver and bow case in hand. "If you'd come with me, please?"

"Of course, Agent Romanoff." Bruce nodded, picking up his bag. "Where are we?" He glanced around.

"Helicarrier. Repairs are almost finished." Natasha didn't look over her shoulder as she led Bruce through the chaos. He found it amusing, the way that everybody just seemed to move aside as she passed by.

"Would you answer a question for me?" Bruce hoped that Natasha would be as forthcoming as Clint had been; his vague bemusement about being watched had started to develop into anger at the high-handed actions of SHIELD.

"I can try," Natasha said, stopping and turning to look at Bruce.

"Who gave you the right to do all that?"

"All what?" Natasha's calm voice, Bruce found, was annoying him even more.

"Follow me around, bribe who knows how many people at Culver, and put all sorts of electronics in my home." Bruce could feel tension building in his shoulders, and he suspected that Natasha was starting to feel nervous. He vaguely remembered a similar look on her face during the attack. "Don't worry, Agent Romanoff, I'm upset, but I'm calm." He gave her a sarcastic smile. "I do have control in all but extreme situations, and this is far from _extreme_."

Natasha's expression didn't change. "You'll have to wait to speak to Director Fury, and he's not here right now." Turning, she started down the corridor again. "This way, please. We have guest quarters prepared for you. It's late."

Bruce did the only thing he could think of, and laughed as he continued following the assassin. "Of course. Because he's the _only_ one that knows what's going on right now. And when will he be back? Tomorrow? Next month? Next _year_? I do have responsibilities, you know. And they aren't to you people. I did my thing for you already." Natasha didn't respond, which annoyed Bruce even more. At least with Clint he'd gotten some response.

Natasha opened a door. "You can stay in here, Doctor Banner. Agent Hill, Clint, or I will come by in the morning. Please don't go anywhere without one of us."

Bruce looked through the door, feeling slightly relieved that it appeared to be just a room with a bed. "Where would I go, anyways? That plane ride took a few hours; I doubt that we're anywhere near Virginia now." He stepped inside, turning to look at Natasha. "Thank you, Agent Romanoff."

"Pleasant dreams, Doctor Banner."

* * *

A banging woke Bruce, and he shuffled over to the door, jerking it open. "What."

"Would you like to buy some Girl Scout cookies, sir?" Clint chirped, then grinned, leaning against the door jamb. "We've got coffee, tea, toast, and cold cereal flavored, all for the low price of please don't yell at me for doing my job. Nat said you were sounding a little upset last night."

Bruce just blinked at the archer, then started to shut the door. "No."

"Hey, hold up a second." Clint shifted, leaning against the door and keeping it open. "Fury wants to see you soon. Skip the shower, unless you like them cold. Our nuclear guys probably really could use your help with fixing stuff, if you know anything about nuclear power plants interacting with Stark's power core."

"Oh. Why didn't you say that?" Bruce rubbed at his face, then nodded as he reached for his glasses. "Did you say something about toast?"

"Just did." Clint glanced around the room. "You can leave your things in here."

"Correct me if I'm wrong," Bruce was holding back a yawn as he followed Clint, "but last time I was here, I seem to remember there being more to eat than toast and cereal."

"Just between you, me, and the hidden microphones posted every five feet in the walls and ceiling, you and I did a lot more damage than was originally thought. Me more than you, and I'm still paying for it." Clint's voice was low and tense. "I can understand why, but it means that I try to stay someplace that _isn't_ here as much as possible. So when I'm here, I tend to eat toast, cold cereal, and MREs, because I can keep some of it in my locker, the toasters and bread are available for anybody to use, and it's hard to mess with a carton of milk and a sealed box of cereal. I suspect it might be habit, now, for some of the worst troublemakers."

"It can't be that bad, can it?" Bruce paused, remembering a few looks that he'd gotten, and the anonymous e-mails that were poorly hidden threats. "Actually, never mind that question. It can be."

"Oh?" Clint's voice was back to what Bruce was calling normal. "How bad was it for you?"

"There have been some e-mails that nobody's been able to track down." Bruce shrugged. "Campus security and the police just said that if anything became clear, to let them know. I'm surprised that you didn't catch them, if you really were monitoring my internet."

"Nat or I will take a look, then. If we can't get an idea, Nat'll bounce it over to the tech guys, see if they can dig anything up. Maybe Jasper will help; he's pretty fascinated by you." Clint glanced at Bruce. "Want to meet him?"

"Why not." Bruce pulled his glasses off, running a hand over his face. "Should at least meet my stalker, right?"

"I don't think that 'stalker' is the right term to use," Clint objected.

"He followed me around without my knowledge, he did so persistently and over a period of time – months, if not years, now – and he's probably seen things that I'd rather have been kept private." Bruce shook his head. "How is he not a stalker?"

Clint blinked. "Ah. Point. Although he was only doing it because he was ordered to, does that make it better?"

"Not particularly. It's just stalking that's supported by whatever SHIELD is." Bruce shook his head. "Although logically, I can see why you would; it doesn't mean that I have to be happy about it."

Clint nodded with a small frown. "Guess that's good enough." He paused, holding one hand to his ear. "Barton copies." He glanced at Bruce. "So, Jasper really wants to meet you. He's snagged us all real food and will meet us at Blake's little cubbyhole."

His initial impression of SHIELD agents _had_ been all wrong, Bruce decided, as he was handed a cup of coffee by a young woman. It was promptly taken away by an older man, and he watched as the two started arguing about proper protocol behind making coffee, and then handing said coffee to people who were being escorted by Agent Barton, of all people. A cough had him turning around. "Doctor Banner?" Another agent held out a cup of juice and a plate. "I'm Jasper Sitwell. It's nice to meet you. Ignore those two; they haven't quite figured out the idea behind being an assistant and having an assistant yet."

Bruce thought he vaguely recognized the man as he accepted what looked to be his usual breakfast. "You're my stalker."

"I am." The agent looked too calm and accepting of that fact for Bruce. "I won't apologize for following orders, but I will apologize for not questioning them over the past year. You knew of our existence, so it shouldn't have been a problem, but the orders were to stay as far back as possible and let you resume your old life." With a hopeful look on his face, he continued, "and call me Jasper. Are you really working with that new element that Stark created?"

"Yes, I am. And no, it still doesn't have an official name as recognized by the International Union of Pure and Applied Chemistry since that's what I'm sure you were going to ask." Bruce sighed. "Although unofficially, we're all calling it 'that damn new element of Stark's.' Still. And from what others pried out of Stark before, before last year, he only made it. It was his father that really developed the concept and came up with the physical structure. And call me Bruce. Everybody else here is." He looked around for a chair, finally moving to sit on the floor. "Thank you for breakfast."

"My pleasure."

"Hey!" The older man had finished his argument, and was staring at Bruce. "No eating on my floor."

"Agent Blake," Jasper had that preternatural stillness that Bruce remembered other SHIELD agents showing. "Please focus on training Miss Wise and not yelling at our guest. You've had nearly a year, and she's not doing much yet."

"And they're off," Clint muttered as he sat down next to Bruce, holding his own plate. "This is normal, don't worry. Jasper worked pretty closely with Phil at times, so their styles were, are, similar. Blake is more inclined to remotely monitor everything, and he's _very_ stuck on following the rules. Why really isn't important; the key thing to know is that those two can work together and get things done, and they usually do. Claire and some kid over in R and D are a result of that. Don't eat or drink anything she hands you. I won't touch it, and that says a lot."

"I see." Bruce focused on eating his breakfast.

"Agent Barton," Bruce looked up to see Jasper standing in front of him. "Do you mind if I borrow Bruce for a little?"

"Not up to me." Clint shrugged. "Bruce? Don't forget, Fury wants to see you."

"Fury wants to see him, but Bruce doesn't want to see Fury." Jasper gave Bruce a small, apologetic smile. "Sorry, but Agent Blake has seen a couple things; you'll want to lay low for a couple days." He glanced at Clint. "Both of you."

"Jasper?" Clint stood up, eyes narrowed. "What's going on?"

Jasper looked around before shutting the door. "We didn't know about the loss of transmission because we were being sent fake ones. Your orders, Agent Barton, are to meet up with Agent Romanoff and be ready to evac with Dr. Banner." He reached into his jacket, pulling out an envelope. "Straight from Fury; he's not agreeing with the orders that he's been given. Agent Blake, Miss Wise, and I will be playing intermediaries as needed." He reached for the door, then glanced at Bruce. "Your first stop might want to be to visit Tony Stark and Miss Potts; I believe that they're in Malibu this week. Just don't be surprised by what you find." Nodding, he glanced between the two men on the floor. "When you'll want to leave, I don't know; just be ready to get out. Bruce, there are some things that you might be able to help us out with, if you're interested? I don't know what Clint said to get you to come, and I know that you might not know much about our power plants, but maybe our guys just need a fresh set of eyes." Holding out a laptop, he continued, "here are the schematics, and a list of what our guys say the problems are."

Intrigued, Bruce took the laptop. Opening it, he curiously looked at what was on the screen. "Fascinating." Standing up, he nodded at Clint. "I'll be with Jasper; there might be something I can do to help."

"Okay. Jasper, I'm going to go find Natasha, get our gear together. Bruce, do you mind if I go and grab your bag?" Bruce absentmindedly shook his head, and Clint nodded. "Okay."

* * *

"Why haven't you asked Stark to take a look at all this?" Bruce had rolled up his sleeves and was leaning over a workbench, glancing between a screen and the equipment spread out in front of him. "Because this is his power source, after all, and this is looking more like an engineering problem. Did he have any input into the connections?"

"He gave us a schematic, but that was it. I'm not even sure that it was his doing." Jasper was sitting on a stool, watching Bruce. "Phil Coulson worked more with Pepper Potts than he did Stark, so she may be where all this came from." He smiled slightly. "During everything last year, he passed along that Stark thought his name was 'Agent.' Amused him to no end."

"That's nice." Bruce looked around for his jacket. "Because there is no reason that there should be problems; the two systems are completely independent of each other, although the schematics you gave me suggest otherwise." Finding where he'd tossed it, he dug through his pocket for the phone he'd been given. "Am I allowed to make a phone call?"

"To who?"

"Tony Stark. I can see, partially, where the problem is, but I'd like his opinion on this, too."

"Ah," Jasper looked uncomfortable. "That probably won't be possible. He's been having some trouble recently; you might have better luck trying to talk with Pepper or his friend James Rhodes. Colonel, Air Force."

"I see. I, um, have some, some problems with the Air Force."

Jasper nodded. "We know. Colonel Rhodes is one of the good guys; after all, he puts up with Stark, and the two are friends."

"Interesting." Bruce looked between the phone, the workbench, and the SHIELD agent. Putting the phone away, he shook his head. "I'll…just wait, then. Maybe I can," he trailed off. "I'm sorry. This is all incredibly fascinating, but I just don't have the knowledge right now to be able to help. Let me look at this for a few days, probably, but," he shrugged, "no immediate results."

"We've been dealing with it for a few months now, a little longer won't be much more of an," Jasper broke off as Natasha walked into the room.

"Doctor Banner. We've tracked down those e-mails that you told Clint about." She barely looked around the room, but suddenly the technicians vanished. "They were coming from a woman on the board of trustees; it appears that her husband is an Air Force officer."

"The Air Force. Of course." Bruce sighed, suddenly turning around and punching the wall. "Why won't they leave me _alone_?" Voice cracking on the last word, he slumped into a chair and dropped his head into his hands. "Agent Romanoff, Jasper, would it be possible to take me to someplace secluded? Someplace where I can really get angry and not do any damage?" He didn't look up, ignoring the way that the floor was blurring slightly. "We're nowhere near where I usually like to go to let the Other Guy out." Blinking furiously, he continued, "it's one of the reasons why there haven't been problems." He laughed. "Have you ever _tried_ to teach introductory physics? Or people who are just needing a few extra credits to graduate? I _hate_ the football team and everybody associated with it."

"And that would also explain the occasional dead shark that's washed up, as well as some of those credit card charges. Fascinating. We just thought you'd found a girlfriend at the beach. The Hulk likes to swim?" Jasper had stood up and was slowly moving closer.

"Please don't come any closer." Bruce nodded. "He…sinks. But there are a few barrier islands that seem to work well enough; nothing there to really hurt except for a few birds and Agent Romanoff you should be one of the _first_ to know that guns don't work so _put it away_." He glared at the two agents, feeling a rushing in his ears that always seemed to warn him that he was about to lose control.

Natasha slowly holstered her gun, nodding. With a glance at Jasper, she nodded again. "I think we can do that. And a second reason why I came. Clint's getting a jet warmed up; we were thinking about leaving now, before we really had to run for it."

Bruce stood up, grabbing at the laptop. "Fine. I'm taking this with me, because maybe I can get some work done and figure out this problem of yours." He didn't resist as Natasha took it from him, and followed the two SHIELD agents to the flight deck. Entering the jet, he was unprepared to see Clint looking back at him and holding out a gun. Bruce staggered slightly as something hit his shoulder, feeling shocked at what had happened. Glancing down, he tried to raise one hand, but found his vision fading.

Catching the physicist as he fell, Jasper grunted slightly. "Little help, here? He's heavier than he looks." He slid Bruce to the deck of the jet, glancing at the two assassins. "Natasha knows what just happened, Clint, but keep everything quiet. You three need anything, Blake and I will be watching for your signals."

* * *

Groaning slightly, Bruce woke up feeling stiff. "What happened?" Opening his eyes, he quickly shut them again; the sun was directly overhead and shining into his face. His headache only increased in intensity.

"Shot you. Nice to know that the stuff works." Clint's voice had Bruce turning his head, shielding his eyes with one hand. Spotting the archer squatting a few feet away, carefully watching Bruce, the physicist frowned.

"I know that. What I want to know is why, with what, and why the hell I shouldn't let the Other Guy out to play right now." Bruce didn't know if he wanted to hear Clint's answer, or if he just wanted to let loose. Letting SHIELD have to deal with his alter-ego really didn't sound all that bad right now.

"Because." Clint stood up and walked closer. Holding his hand out to Bruce, he continued, "you like me too much for that. And I was more concerned about the safety of _my_ plane and _my_ partner than keeping you _happy_. Not all of this is about you, Bruce. Nat is scared _shitless_ of you; even after two damn years she still doesn't want to be around the Hulk unless it's absolutely necessary. Problem one. I've seen the videos, talked to the people involved. You got on my plane, and I could _see_ that you were mad. Furious. Problem two. If Nat and Jasper had thought that you had full control, you would've been the one carrying that laptop. You weren't, so I had made the decision already to just try sedating you if I felt that it was required. And I felt that it was required." He moved his hand closer to Bruce's face. "Nice thing is, 'Mr. Green's' and 'Mr. Blue's' research obviously had some excellent results. We moved in, took that research. Snuck in to where Blonsky had been stashed a time or two and tested it out on him. It worked; kept him calm, even if it didn't improve his looks all that much. So why not assume that it would work on you, too. After all, it was developed from _your_ blood."

"It actually reverses the transformation. At least, it did once, but then Harlem happened and I couldn't test it anymore." Bruce didn't accept Clint's offer of help as he sat up. "Although it seems that there is a problem with headaches afterwards. Ow." Glaring at Clint, Bruce gently shook his head. "And I _don't_ like you enough to accept your explanation."

"Fine, then." Clint's voice became noticeably cooler. "It was either my way or getting shoved into a Hulk-proof cage and losing everything. No more Culver. No more research. No more weekends fighting sharks. No more _freedom_. Just who knows how long sitting around, twiddling your thumbs. Tend not to offer things like magazines to prisoners; too much of a risk of them making weapons. So you didn't like it, tough shit. So you've got a headache, that's easy enough to deal with. But again, Bruce, _this isn't all about you._ Nat and I have had to _completely_ reschedule a dozen important things that were lined up, and depending on what's discovered, we might be stuck together for more than just a few days." He paused, staring at Bruce. "And if you're waiting for an apology, you're not going to get one. Here's the order of my concern. Me. Natasha. SHIELD. Everybody else. You are on that list, filed under 'everybody else.' So you can either accept that I will sedate you if I feel it is needed, or you can't. If you can't, well, we can certainly head back to the Helicarrier and let whatever happens happen. Your choice."

"Those are my only options, then?" Bruce glanced around, seeing that they were sitting in the middle of a field. "What's to keep me from just heading off on my own again?"

"You could." Clint nodded. "But then you'd be running from Ross _and_ SHIELD. And here's the thing. You can't run from SHIELD. You can't hide from SHIELD. You just hope that we are _nice_ about bringing you in and don't just kill you in cold blood in the middle of the street in some little backwater city with a name that you can barely pronounce." He stood up, looking around. "So, what do you want to do?"

"Oh, you're good." Bruce chuckled slightly, still feeling upset. "Go with you if I want to live, not that you're guaranteed to successfully kill me. The Other Guy? He has a thing about death. If those aliens couldn't touch him, what makes you think that you can?"

Clint pulled a gun out. "Because I already took you down once. I can, _will_, do it again. No hesitation. And I bet that with enough of this stuff, you'll be down for a very long time." Leaning down and getting right into Bruce's face, he nodded. "Assassin. I kill people in cold blood for a _living_. I don't just use arrows and guns, I can and have used knives, drugs, and even a hammer once. Now that I'm good and mad, I want your decision in the next ten seconds. Are you coming with us. Yes, or no."

Bruce mutely stared at Clint, before nodding sharply. Wincing as his headache suddenly intensified at the movement, he groaned. "I hate you."

"I can work with that." Clint's voice was suddenly friendly again. "Bet you'll hate me a little less when I offer you some painkillers and lunch. We've got a whole range of options for painkillers. For lunch we've got your choice of bag A, B, or C." He lowered his voice. "Avoid C. Nat likes that one and I don't think you'll want to arm wrestle her for it. She cheats. And then we're going to continue our flight to Malibu and Tony Stark's place, provided that Nat has finished reprogramming the transponder in the jet."


	3. Chapter 3

Hello, Tony. Timeline, because folks have been asking: two years post The Incredible Hulk, one year post The Avengers. Also post Iron Man 3. Many thanks to everybody at The Beta Branch who helped with the characterizations.

* * *

As the jet lifted off, Bruce carefully watched Clint and Natasha quietly talk in the cockpit. Thinking over the conversation he'd had with Clint, and how carefully the Russian had acted as the trio sat in the field eating lunch, he sighed. Shaking his head, he reached for the laptop sitting on the seat next to him, opening it and pulling up the schematics of the Helicarrier's nuclear plant. There _had_ to be something in there that was the problem, that he was sure of. Rubbing lightly at his forehead, Bruce wondered if the SHIELD agents would let him try a different painkiller. The Tylenol wasn't working well enough for his liking, and his head was pounding. With another sigh, he stood up, moving to the front of the jet.

"Help you?" Clint glanced over his shoulder.

"Please." Bruce winced slightly; the glare from the sun was bouncing into the jet. "I said that I'd take a look at those power issues, but I need some more information. Is there any way that I can get some internet access? And something stronger for this headache?"

"Nat." Clint nodded. "Have at it."

Moving back, Bruce watched as Natasha stood up and moved into the back of the jet. As she handed him a pill, he nodded. "Thank you, Agent Romanoff."

She eyed him, nodding. "Of course, Doctor Banner. And what information were you looking for?"

Swallowing the pill dry, Bruce gestured at the laptop. "I don't know much about how the nuclear reactor works on the Helicarrier, and even with what's on here I still need some more information. And I'm sorry."

"What for?" Natasha gestured to the seats, sitting down.

"For whatever the Hulk did to you. For scaring you." Bruce sat down as well, keeping a seat between the two of them. "Clint said that you were at Culver, and again in Harlem, and I know that he chased you around last year."

"Your apologies aren't needed, Doctor Banner. I'm not scared of anything or anyone." Natasha shook her head, typing on the laptop.

"Tasha," Clint called back, saying something in a language that Bruce didn't understand, ending with "cool? Nice. I'll let you two know when I need her back."

"At Culver," Natasha spoke in a low tone, not looking at Bruce, "I watched you take on the US Air Force who had weapons that were designed to take down aircraft and other enemy machines. You just shrugged it all off. And what did I have? A handful of armor-piercing bullets in a handgun. Then Emil Blonsky was able to push you around, but he'd been enhanced. How could any human fight that?"

"I, Agent Romanoff, am not the Hulk. The Other Guy lives in here," Bruce tapped his head, "and he comes out once in a while, but I'm not about to go on a destructive rage because I can." He pointed at the laptop. "Doctor Bruce Banner is a scientist. A man who is working on becoming old and bitter because of the way his entire life has been; a man who would otherwise grow old and die alone. The Hulk…the Hulk is more my alter-ego and the reason I am still alive today, but he's not my reason for living. Being Bruce Banner is." Closing his eyes, he shook his head. "The last time the Other Guy came out without me letting him out was that day on the Helicarrier. I told you my secret about how I keep control, right?"

"You're always angry."

"There is a part of me, Agent Romanoff, that is always angry, yes. That part isn't just the Other Guy; part of it is me, but I've realized that's just the way life is. Life is hell. Life is watching your…" Bruce thought about sharing more from his past, but decided not to. Firmly shaking his head, he continued, "I discovered that it's all in how I let it out, which is why I found a place where the Hulk couldn't do much damage and I go there whenever I feel too on edge." A sudden thought hit him and he sat up straight. "Can I check my e-mail? Right now?"

"Of course. I just need to take a look at anything you want to send." Natasha nodded, passing the laptop over. "Why?"

"That damned football team," Bruce's voice trailed off as he quickly pulled up his Culver e-mail and scanned through what had arrived since he'd last checked. Opening one, he shook his head in resignation. "And the department head, while agreeing with me on the idea that the kicker needs to be held to the same standards as the rest of my students, says that his hands are tied." With a wry smile, he stared at the screen. "So that's another undeserved C that I have to give out, if not a B depending on the rest of the kid's GPA. I hate school politics. Either pass the star kicker so that he can continue to get his scholarship and play on the team, or have my funding reassessed."

"Why do you stay there, then? If you are that unhappy?" Bruce glanced over at Natasha, finding her watching him curiously. His fingers flew over the keyboard, typing his response.

"Why do you stay with SHIELD, Agent Romanoff? The good outweighs the bad and the frustrating. Culver is my home. It's part of who I am, football team, introductory physics, and all. And no other research university has all the equipment that I need, nor the teaching opportunities." Bruce shifted the laptop, showing the e-mail. At Natasha's nod, he hit send before logging out of his Culver account.

Natasha stood up. "SHIELD does, Doctor Banner. Please excuse me."

Bruce watched as she went back to her seat in the cockpit, shaking her head at a question Clint asked. Glancing down at the laptop, he nodded in satisfaction; she'd managed to pull up exactly what he'd been looking for. "SHIELD does. Interesting." He muttered to himself. "Wonder what she meant by that." Pushing it to the back of his mind, Bruce tried to focus on the Helicarrier's power problem. If only that damned headache would go away…

* * *

"Sir, there appears to be a SHIELD Quinjet landing in the backyard." The cultured tones of Tony Stark's AI echoed through the lab.

Tony sat up with a start, groaning and holding his head. "Turn it down, JARVIS. Tell Pepper to make them go away."

"Miss Potts is not here right now, sir. Shall I simply lock the door?"

"Yeah. Do that." Tony dropped his head back down onto the desk. "Lock it all down until Pepper gets here. Whoever's out there can just wait. Use the pool or something."

"Let's see, how did Phil say he did this," Clint was muttering to himself as he worked his phone. "Damn. Stark must have upgraded his AI's security." Glancing over at Natasha and Bruce, he shrugged. "Guess nobody's home, and I can't hack into the AI with this." He held up his phone.

"He's home." Natasha's voice was firm. "If he's not someplace visible, he spends time down in his lab, at least when he's in Malibu. I think that he doesn't want to talk to anybody."

Nodding, Clint turned to face the others completely. "Point. Didn't he just get back from China or something?"

Natasha shrugged. "Monitoring Stark isn't on my list; you'll have to see if Jasper or Blake knows."

"Yeah, maybe later." Clint shook his head. "What's his girlfriend's name? The redhead?"

"Pepper Potts." Bruce spoke up. "Although Jasper didn't say she was Tony's girlfriend. He said that I'd probably want to try talking to her to get more information on the arc reactor core."

"They have an interesting relationship." Natasha shook her head. "But it's a relationship."

"Okay." Clint nodded. "We have her phone number?"

"Sir," the voice had Tony groaning, shifting his arms so they were covering his ears. The AI just raised its volume in response. "Miss Potts is calling. Shall I put her through?"

"Yeah, fine." Tony sighed, pushing himself up. "Hey, Pepper."

"Don't you 'hey, Pepper,' me, Tony. There are visitors; at least tell JARVIS to unlock the door and let them in the house. I'm on my way home now, and Rhodey is also trying to get out of whatever he's doing, since they say they're from SHIELD." Pepper's voice softened slightly. "You don't have to leave the lab, Tony; they can wait upstairs until I get back. Half an hour."

"Fine. JARVIS, they can wait in the kitchen. That's fully finished, right? And who's out there?"

"Indeed, sir, the only things that are awaiting finishing are the swimming pool and the hot tub." Three faces flashed into existence in front of Tony. "These are the people waiting outside, sir. I believe that they are Agents Barton and Romanoff and Doctor Banner."

"Why didn't you say so? Let them in!" Tony pushed himself away from his desk, heading for the door.

"Sir might want to put on a clean shirt, before meeting his guests."

"They'll survive." Tony leaned against the wall, shaking his head slightly. "Okay. Really let them in now; I'm awake." He ignored the voice whispering in his ear, saying that _if you'd just sleep at night, this wouldn't be a problem, Tony,_ trying to instead focus on the feel of the floor under his bare feet and the warmth of the sunlight on his face as he made his way to where his guests were. "Bruce! I gave you that phone for a reason, you know. Very disappointed, and if you needed a name for the new element, I was pulling for 'badassium' but now I'll settle for 'starkium.' Unless you've found out that it's the same thing as Captain America's shield, but I don't think that's really the case."

Startled at how haggard Tony looked, Bruce shook his head slightly. "No, that's something that was figured out a couple months ago, and it's not an isotope either. Starkium." He looked thoughtful. "I'll suggest that as soon as they'll let me." He nodded at Clint and Natasha. "For now, though, I'm not allowed to do much outside of what I've been given."

"When all this blows over, Bruce. I promise. We'll even send you on a vacation. All alone, unless you say otherwise." Clint was watching Tony, eyes narrowed. "Hello, Mr. Stark. Sorry to just show up like this, but we couldn't really call ahead."

Tony waved one hand dismissively. "Please. I wasn't doing anything and _shut up Happy_. If I wanted your opinion I'd _ask_."

"Mr. Stark?" Clint shifted position slightly, carefully watching Tony turn and snap at the empty air. "Who are you talking to?"

"It's _Tony_. You'd think after saving the damn world we'd be on a first-name basis, right?" Tony pointed towards the kitchen, ignoring Clint's question. "Kitchen's that way, don't go exploring. Pepper's on her way back, she'll talk with you." He turned, heading for the stairs. "I'm heading back to my lab; you need a million-dollar buy-in for access."

"Cash or check." Clint hadn't moved, but he was following Tony with his eyes. "Or stock options. Left the AmEx Black in my other jet, sorry."

Tony snorted, not turning around. "Sorry, price just went up. Either wait for Pepper in the kitchen or go away and leave me alone."

"Tony." Bruce ducked around Natasha and Clint, holding out one hand. "Maybe you could offer some help on a project that I'm working on."

"You can come." Tony pointed at Bruce. "You two can't, so go wait in the kitchen." With a shake of his head, he straightened up. Bruce thought he suddenly looked like the Tony Stark he remembered. "So, Bruce, what exactly brings you to my humble abode? Without even calling ahead? Terribly rude, that, you know."

"Bruce." Clint was looking around. "Sorry, Tony, but I've been told to keep Bruce on a short leash until we get some things figured out." Glancing at Bruce, he shrugged. "Orders. Sorry."

"Orders. Of course." Bruce sighed. "I'm still trying to decide just why I decided to come with you."

"My sparkling personality." Clint nodded. "And an odd sense of self-preservation." He glanced around. "Well, guess we all get to go wait in the kitchen, since Tony's vanished."

"He went back down to his lab, or where his lab was." Natasha spoke up, lowering her cell phone. "I just talked with Jasper. He says that he doesn't know everything, but he's going to try and find out. He also said that Pepper might be willing to share, since she talked with Phil so much."

* * *

"It's called Extremis." Pepper wrapped her hands around a mug of tea. "Tony was incredibly shaken up after everything that happened in New York, and then," she trailed off, shaking her head. "How and why doesn't matter. What does matter is we were attacked here, Tony vanished, and he, being the stubborn, overly-caring, and stupid man that he is, went and had himself injected with the Extremis virus. It's a nanotechnology, and all that he's told me is that he reprogrammed it slightly, taking away some of the risks and giving him some extra benefits, like being able to remotely control his armor and interface better with electronics in general. But there have been side effects. He doesn't sleep much, he hallucinates,"

"We saw." Clint interjected, holding his own cup. "He told Happy to shut up, and we were the only ones there."

"Happy died." Pepper put her mug down at a soft chime. "Excuse me for just a minute."

She left, and Bruce leaned back in his chair. Seeing Tony in person and hearing how the nanotechnology gave Tony the ability to interface with electronics had triggered some ideas that he wanted to sort out. He wondered about some of the more beneficial properties of the new element – Tony had shown that it worked to provide some of the cleanest energy possible, outside of wind and solar, but there had to be more to it. Running the numbers through his head, Bruce suddenly sat upright. "Do either of you have a pen? And paper? Think I've realized what your problems are." His hand itched, desperate to write down his theories and get back to the systems' schematics. "I can't believe that nobody thought of this."

"Sorry, I don't. What were you thinking of?" Clint glanced around the room.

"Power frequencies and having two systems that should be compatible but really aren't." Bruce shook his head. "I can't believe that _nobody_ thought of that when fixing the Helicarrier and putting in Tony's power system. And I'd suggest looking into the design of your nuclear plant, or think about getting rid of it altogether."

"Agents Barton and Romanoff, Doctor Banner," Pepper had returned, followed by a man in a military uniform, "I'd like to introduce you to Colonel James Rhodes. Rhodey, these are Clint, Natasha, and Bruce."

"Hello," the officer nodded. "What brings you here?"

"Consultation, and just dropping by to say hello." Clint shrugged with an easy grin. "We've got one of the new power cores, and it's just not working quite right with the old power plant. So we asked Bruce here to come help. He needed Tony's help, so why not come and visit?"

"Except that you're based on the East Coast." Rhodey's eyes narrowed slightly. "Why not just call? And where were you people when Tony needed you?"

"Hey," Clint stood up. "No proof where our ship is located. None. We could be sitting half an hour _that_ way," he pointed west. "And frankly, Tony never asked for help. You didn't. Pepper didn't. We aren't babysitters." At Bruce's snort, he paused, looking around. "Well, mostly not. Bruce, this isn't babysitting, this is for your damn protection."

"Protective custody, right. How can I forget." Bruce shook his head.

"Exactly. Us or them, take your pick." Clint turned back to Pepper and Rhodey. "So don't go blaming us for not being able to pick up every single damn piece when _we_ were falling apart at the seams." He paused, as Natasha moved up next to him and put her hand on his arm. "Right. Obviously this was a mistake, so we'll be moving on now. Nat, Jasper get a car sorted out?"

"And the safehouse." Natasha nodded. "He also asked me to tell Doctor Banner that he's passing along some data from the most recent problem; it sounds like Director Fury's quarters had a bit of a fire."

"Ouch. Bet he's pissed." Clint nodded. "Just hope that he didn't lose his coat collection."

"Jasper didn't say." Natasha shrugged, looking around. "Pepper, let me give you a contact number for the future, since it's obvious that SHIELD assistance might have been appreciated."

Tony was waiting by the front door. "Hi, Rhodey. Don't yell at them because I didn't need their help or want it. I needed to have my own personal crisis and life-or-death situation with just my close friends around. Bruce, I was looking at the problems and it's frequency. The two systems are off by just a little bit, but it's enough to cause those power overloads and blackouts."

"That's what I was just thinking," Bruce nodded. "I'm also thinking that the blame is more on the nuclear side, not the Stark tech side. You designed it to match the US power grid, right?"

"Exactly." Tony nodded, eyes closed. "And I said to shut up, please, you're not real. I know this, why don't you? So Bruce, the answer to your question is yes. I'd either suggest getting rid of the nuclear plant altogether or rebuilding it from scratch; I'm sending you some ideas right now." Opening his eyes, he glanced around. "Bruce, you and one of your babysitters come downstairs and I'll show you. Rhodey, this is my house, my rules, I don't need protection from these people. Yet."

"I'm coming, too." Rhodey followed Tony, Bruce, and Clint.

* * *

Clint shifted slightly next to the Air Force officer as they watched Bruce and Tony talk. "So, how 'bout them Yankees?"

"This is the most with it I've seen Tony in a while." Rhodey shook his head slightly. "And what's up with the protective custody for Doctor Banner?"

Clint didn't take his gaze off of Bruce and Tony. "There are certain elements that are a little too interested in him. We're keeping an eye on him for now, because he's of better use working in his own lab than locked up as a lab rat in some Air Force base like your friend Ross wants."

"Who?" The question had Clint glancing over with a narrow smile.

"General Thaddeus Ross. Originally tasked with creating a super-soldier serum, he enlisted, through his daughter, the help of one Doctor Bruce Banner. Bruce, in a move that he freely admits was stupid, was over-exposed to some radiation. These days, he has an alter-ego that is huge, green, and has a rather intense anger problem."

"That man," the disbelief was clear in Rhodey's voice, "turns into the _Hulk_?" He shook his head. "Impossible."

"Possible, Colonel." Bruce spoke up. "Hope that you'll never see him in person."

"And, having heard all this, you do understand that this is classified above your pay grade? We've been keeping an eye on him, for hopefully obvious reasons, but right now, the goal is to keep Bruce from being found by certain elements."

Rhodey was shaking his head. "I don't know. If I'm asked, there is an expectation that I'll answer."

Clint turned to fully face the other man. "_Look_ at them, Colonel Rhodes. You just said that this is the most with it you've seen Tony Stark in _months_, after whatever happened to cause him to have some idiotic idea that resulted in him getting injected with some random technology that probably wasn't fully tested. SHIELD is asking you to protect _that_." Leaning back against the wall, he muttered, "even if the two of them are a couple idiots, with what they did to themselves. Damn fools."

"Any arguments or insults in my lab need to be caused by me, so either stop it or take it to the other side of the door," Tony called out, before pointing at a hologram and turning back to Bruce.

With a sigh, Rhodey glanced at Tony before refocusing on Clint. "Of course, Agent Barton. Besides, my biggest deal these days is parading around in a version of Iron Man's suit and trying to get more information out of Tony about various technologies that can be used for military purposes."

"You're War Machine?" Clint nodded. "Cool." He paused, grinning. "Can I have your autograph?"

Rhodey laughed. "Can I have yours, _Hawkeye_?"

"Sorry, classified," Clint shot back. "Dare you to ask Natasha for hers. Or Bruce for the Hulk's."


	4. Chapter 4

Catch.

* * *

"Why, Tony." Bruce ignored the direction that Clint and Rhodey's conversation had taken, choosing instead to focus on what was in front of him and the question that had been slowly growing in the back of his mind.

"Why what?" Bruce thought he saw a flash of guilt cross Tony's face. "Why is all this broken?" He gestured at the blown-up model of the Helicarrier's nuclear reactor. "Because the answer to that one is simple; they went to the lowest bidder and I don't think that the lowest bidder quite understood the idea of 60 hertz needing to be 60 hertz and not anything else."

"Why would you go and do that to yourself." Bruce stayed calm as he pointed at a spot in the diagram, watching as it expanded and he could get a better look. He found the hologram technology fascinating, and wondered if it would be possible to get it installed in his lab; being able to expand an atom to fill an entire room…forcing him to stay on the subject he'd brought up, he continued, "Extremis, I mean."

"I had to." Tony's voice was flat. "It was that or watching everybody I love die, everything I knew crumble around me. I had Pepper, Happy, and Rhodey. That was _it_."

"Was it worth it?" Bruce lowered his voice, hoping that their conversation wouldn't be overheard. "Was it really, truly worth it?"

"Yes." Tony nodded. He turned and looked at Bruce. "Was it? For you?"

"_Never_," Bruce snapped. Taking a deep breath, he turned. Walking to the far end of the room and back, he ignored the way that his movements were being tracked. "Look at what it did to my _life_, Tony." He pointed at Clint. "I had a girlfriend, I had a _future_. Now I've got babysitters, one of which doesn't want to be in the same room as me and the other is somebody who will shoot me at the slightest provocation."

"No guns," Tony kept his eyes on Bruce. "Not in my lab."

"Yeah? What about the Hulk?" Clint's voice was calm.

"I just finished rebuilding, all my robots have been water-proofed and have the way home programmed into them. I can rebuild again." Tony shook his head. "Now shut up and let me talk with Bruce."

Clint just raised his hands in surrender and shook his head. "Your money."

"Why do you think I asked for a buy-in?" Tony turned back to Bruce. "I was fighting somebody that had been given Extremis, Bruce. He nearly _killed_ me. My suit couldn't keep up. And then…" he trailed off, leaning heavily on the desk. "I lost Happy, Bruce, I lost Happy and I nearly lost Pepper and I couldn't deal with thinking about that."

"And what have you gained?" Bruce turned and leaned against the edge of the desk, arms crossed. "Because I'll tell you what I've gained. Nothing. Nothing but misery and _hell_." He gestured at Tony. "You look like crap and you're hallucinating. Pepper said that you're not sleeping." Closing his eyes, Bruce yanked off his glasses and roughly squeezed the bridge of his nose. "You know what? Forget that I asked. Maybe once you've had seven years to learn to live with it you'll understand where I'm coming from."

"I looked into the Hulk, Bruce." Tony was leaning against the desk next to Bruce. "Saw the videos that were taken, hacked some Air Force reports from that nutjob you were working with." He shrugged. "I had my reasons. I don't regret it. The only thing I _regret_," Tony shook his head, staring into the distance, "the only thing I regret is that I've hurt Pepper, and I know that I'm going to continue hurting her. I got one of my friends killed. I had to destroy years of research to keep it safe – it's all on computers, but take a look around. I kept all my suits in here, Bruce, going all the way back to the Mark One. See them now?"

"What did it do to you, Tony?" Bruce asked quietly. He saw, out of the corner of his eye, Cint and Rhodey starting to look worried and ignored them.

Tony took a breath and pushed off from the desk. "Think back to last year, on the Helicarrier. You were asked to find the Tesseract. How long did it take you to come up with a viable solution?"

"Including the plane ride from India?" Bruce thought for a minute. "Five hours, including reading the notes that were saved."

Tony nodded. "I couldn't have done that, not that fast. I was up all night reading, running some simulations that really weren't finished until I was about to arrive at the Helicarrier." Waving his hands in demonstration, Tony continued, "I can build. I can invent. I created AIs. But I couldn't do what you can do."

"I think you're selling yourself short, Tony." Bruce carefully thought how he wanted to word everything. "I could only do that because it was dealing with gamma radiation. My specialty. And a lot of the work had already been done by Eric Selvig, so it was less new work and more just rearranging the pieces, and you were there for that." Shaking his head, he finished, "you helped to speed everything up, in fact, with the technology that _you_ created."

"It wasn't enough," Tony muttered. "All the computer power in the world wouldn't have done anything against that group, especially once they got Extremis." Glancing at Bruce, Tony slowly shook his head.

"You're not answering my question, Tony." Bruce's voice was flat. "What did it do to you?"

"Remote control of the Iron Man armor." Tony turned around and refocused on the hologram. "I can interface with various networks – don't even need JARVIS to help me hack into them sometimes. I heal faster, I can move faster. I can process data faster than some computers."

"Well, that sounds perfectly lovely." Bruce nodded. "Anything else?"

"No."

"Tony, tell the man," Rhodey said, and Bruce jumped slightly. The other two men had moved closer without him noticing.

"I know, Bruce. I need a bell. Can I have a purple collar to go with it?" Clint grinned, then stared at Tony. "What aren't you telling us, Tony? I'm not going to report this, since we weren't sent here to look into anything, but I do want to know in case we need to leave a better way for you to contact us in the future, just in case you need help. Creating messes or cleaning them up, SHIELD is good for some things."

"No." Tony's voice flattened out. "I'm not going to say what else."

"Hallucinations, insomnia – or no. Nightmares, I bet, and it's easier to have them during the day than actually at night." Bruce was carefully working through what Tony had admitted and was combining it with Pepper's information.

"There's too much information, and it all needs to come out somehow." Tony snapped. "Now _get out_." The lights flickered, and Bruce glanced around nervously. "I _said_, get out. _Now_."

"He's been a lot more aggressive recently, too." Rhodey said as Tony turned and stalked off. "Let's go, he's not going to come down from this for a while."

Bruce turned and headed for the door, before stopping. "You know what? No. I think you and Pepper have been handling Tony with kid gloves, and he doesn't need that right now." Turning back around, he walked over to Tony. "Shut up."

"_Go away_, Bruce. I don't want to hurt you."

"You see, Tony, you won't be hurting _me_." Bruce shook his head. "You want to get it all out? _Really_ get it out? Good, because I need to get it out, too. You in your suit against the Hulk." He spoke softly, challenging Tony. "I bet you and him can go three rounds before enough sedative is shot into the Hulk to take him down because what Clint has _works_. And then maybe you'll admit that you were wrong to try and do everything on your own. I screwed up, and look what it's gotten me." He spread his hands. "I was suddenly jerked out of my happy life yesterday because the people who were stalking me suddenly discovered that their bugs had been replaced by somebody else's bugs. I am being sent threats by somebody with a connection to the Air Force and it's about time for another one to show up if the pattern continues, not that I'll be able to actually check my e-mail without supervision. I was shot and drugged up this morning, and I've still got the headache. I've discovered that somebody that I need to be able to trust implicitly can't differentiate _me_ from the Other Guy, so I don't know how much I can trust _her_." He ignored everything but Tony. "So, I know that my life is crap, Tony, but I'm making it work. What about you?" Lowering his voice, Bruce shook his head. "I spent five years running from myself, because I couldn't deal with the voice in my head and the realization of what I'd done. Five years hiding. You don't have that option." He laughed softly. "And I think you were incredibly stupid, you know. No, I don't think that. I _know_ that."

"I didn't have a _choice_," Tony snapped. "Not like _you_, Bruce. You _voluntarily_ stuck yourself in an untested machine and now you're paying the price. But I _had_ to. _Lives were at stake_, and I couldn't save them as I was." As Tony waved one hand, the hologram of a nuclear engine disappeared, and a video appeared showing a helicopter attack on Tony's house. "Pepper nearly _died_ because of me. Happy did die. And you've got the nerve to show up here without an invitation and _judge_ me?"

"Wasn't my choice to show up, I was going to actually use that phone and call you. But I was told that it wasn't a good idea." Bruce didn't back up as Tony approached. "And you had a choice. You had a choice to call in the big guns but no, Tony Stark, the great Iron Man, had to do it all by himself. Was last year just a once-off? Join up, kill a few aliens, save the world, then whenever somebody gets in trouble just buckle down and deal with it alone? So yes, I'm going to judge you! _Everybody_ judges you just because of who you are! Tony Stark is a common household name and has been for _years_, and you damn well know it!"

"_You_ dealt with it alone." Tony snapped. "You just had me drop you off at the fucking airport and you hauled off for wherever. Didn't even think about my offer, did you?"

"Because I don't like New York! I like working on my own, doing research that I can lay claim to, and teaching!" Bruce realized he was yelling. "I'm a university professor, and as soon as Culver contacted me to let me know that I was welcome back, I was on the next plane to Virginia! I wasn't in trouble, and I didn't _need_ help! I also didn't need people getting _selfish_ about knowing me, because I'm not a piece of technology, to be bought and sold at the damn store." He watched as Tony reddened. Out of the corner of his eye, Bruce saw a piece of the Iron Man suit start to vibrate slightly. He started to think about actually letting the Hulk out, just to make a point. A sudden thought had him staring at Tony. "You're upset because nobody stuck around after last year to hold your hand." Silence, and an increase in vibrations from the suit was the only response. Bruce let out a bitter laugh. "You had your friends. Clint, Natasha, they had resources. _Steve_ had resources. Me? Nobody. You dropped me off at LaGuardia and what did I do? Bought the cheapest plane ticket that got me as far west as was possible, with the goal of getting back to India. At least I could do some good there. So stop feeling so damn sorry for yourself."

"Like you aren't?" Tony's jaw clenched, and he looked like he was about to start swinging. "Because you are. You play the victim pretty damn well, Bruce."

Clint and Rhodey exchanged a look, then both men stepped forward to try and separate the two scientists. "Bruce, you don't want to do this." Clint was shaking his head as Rhodey said similar to Tony. "Just back off and calm down some."

"The _hell_ with being calm. I'm _done_ with being calm." Bruce spun around to walk away. "I'm also very, very mad at Tony, you, Agent Romanoff, and SHIELD." He didn't get a chance to say anything else before he felt a prick in his arm and the world went dark.

"You know, Rhodey, I am beginning to fully appreciate the use of sedatives." Clint eyed the two scientists. "There is something rather pleasant about being able to knock out a pain in the ass and know that they'll wake up in an hour or so." Rubbing his hands together, he experimentally called out, "JARVIS?"

"How may I be of assistance, Agent Barton?"

"First, thanks for not warning Tony, second, thanks for the sedative, and third, could you get Pepper and Natasha down here?" With a glance at Rhodey, Clint pulled out his phone and dialed a number. "Jasper. Clint. Yeah, it's ugly; I'll see if Pepper'll send you the information and you can track it all down. Start with the nanotechnology virus Extremis, and any groups operating out of China." At Rhodey's whisper, Clint nodded. "Correction. Look up Ten Rings and their connection to Stark."

"You know something else?" Rhodey was lightly rolling a syringe between his fingers. "I'm not quite sure if I want to know what's going to happen when the two of them wake up. And why, since Tony's so tied into everything these days, he didn't realize that not only are there sedatives kept down here, but that I was about to give some to him."

"He was probably distracted." Clint glanced down at Bruce as he shook his head in resignation. "Man, this has just made my job about ten times harder. Maybe I should just get Jasper out here to deal with Bruce, since I've drugged him twice in one day now. My trustworthiness has gone through the _floor_."

"At least you had some," Natasha said sourly as she and Pepper walked into the lab. "We were watching everything upstairs."

"He is right though. About you not trusting him simply because of the Hulk." Clint knelt down next to Bruce. Rolling the scientist over, Clint shook his head. "What _are_ we going to do with them."

"Tony would probably say to pull some frat party trick, but I'm inclined to just let them both sleep it off." Rhodey had finished putting Tony in a comfortable position. "Maybe that's what Tony needs."

"No." Natasha shook her head. "Clint, is Pegasus base still abandoned?"

"Yeah," Clint nodded. "Dump 'em there? Toss Tony's armor down a hole, too, and actually let them have it out?" Nodding again, he finished, "and tape it all and put it up online. Iron Man versus the Hulk. Make people pay to see it, and we could be millionaires."

"Where is this Pegasus base? And what are you thinking?" Pepper was kneeling next to Tony, gently stroking his hair back.

"New Mexico." Natasha spoke up. "It was destroyed last year as part of the alien attack on New York. Clint, I'll go get the jet warmed up."

"They're both pretty mad." Clint hauled Bruce over his shoulder as he stood up. "Probably less than a minute away from going at each other, so Nat and I are thinking that maybe just letting them get it out will help. Help what, exactly, I don't know, but it'll help something."

"New Mexico? Will they even stay asleep for that long?" Rhodey was glancing at the two SHIELD agents in confusion. "Or do you just plan on drugging them up again?"

"Our jets. Mach 2.1, VTOL, bunch of other stuff that's classified," Clint had a satisfied grin on his face. "SHIELD gets all the good toys, Rhodey, and we don't really like to share. Nat, yeah, get it warmed up, but I'm going to let Rhodey be co-pilot. Sure, you're not rated, but I can fly one of these suckers solo so I'm not worried. Just don't touch the guns." He nodded as Natasha quickly left the room. "If you can grab Tony, we can come back for his armor."

Rhodey whistled under his breath as he glanced around the inside of the Quinjet and gently placed Tony down. "How much of this is Stark Tech?"

"A bit," Clint dumped Bruce on the floor. "With a few other things tossed in. You can try to get some of it out of Tony or whoever you talk with the most, but SHIELD's modified it pretty heavily." He glanced down with a frown as Bruce shifted. "Nat?"

"As soon as the rest of you are ready, we can go." Natasha glanced back from the cockpit. "I let Blake know what your plan is."

"My plan? No way, this was your idea. I was just confirming it." Clint paused for a second. "Well, actually, getting it on tape was my idea, but letting the Hulk destroy something that's already destroyed is all on you."

* * *

When Bruce woke up, he decided that Clint had a lot to answer for. While sedating him was a logical option, it was not one that Bruce liked very much and twice in one day was pushing it. Bruce looked around as he carefully sat up and assessed how he was feeling. Unlike earlier in the day, there wasn't anybody nearby, just a piece of paper stuck under a rock and a flashlight. "Have fun" was printed in block letters, with a rough sketch of a bow and arrow. "Have fun," he murmured, taking a second, longer look around. It wasn't an island off the coast of Virginia, true, but part of him was getting tired of waking up smelling like fish and seaweed. With a feral grin he quickly stripped down to his pants and let go.

"Something I've been wondering about," Clint had the jet hovering above Bruce. "How is it that he keeps his pants? Something I'm thankful for, mind you, but still." He kept a careful eye out as the Hulk looked up, roared once, then started moving towards what had been the Pegasus base.

Tony woke with a low groan, wondering how he'd managed to overwrite the controls for the air conditioning in his sleep. It was much colder than he ever remembered setting it, and a lack of scent in the air made him suddenly open his eyes. "I don't think I was drinking," he muttered. At a roar, he glanced around. Scrambling for the flashlight and note that he could see in the moonlight, Tony quickly scanned what was written. "Stark, you made him mad, so have fun." He didn't recognize the handwriting, but he suspected that the SHIELD agents were involved. A sore shoulder suggested that somebody had drugged him; he took a second to be surprised that it had actually worked. A glint out of the corner of his eye had him spotting his armor. "Well now, that's just careless." Sounds of destruction had him quickly scrambling to get his armor on.

"Tony's awake," Rhodey was keeping an eye on the billionaire. "He's got his armor on."

"How does he look?" Pepper leaned over Rhodey's shoulder.

"I'm fine, Pepper. Although I'm curious about a few things." Tony's voice made Pepper jump slightly. "One, why. Two, how. Three, who."

"Natasha's note didn't explain it all?" Clint kept a careful eye on the Hulk as Tony flew up to be level with the jet. "And Rhodey is the one who stuck you; it was all his idea." He ignored Rhodey's glare. "But you pissed Bruce off, you get to go play with the Hulk."

"Really. What if I don't want to?"

"Tony," Pepper sounded disappointed. "You're being selfish."

"Of course I am." Mentally, Tony shook his head. "JARVIS, where is he?" Experimentally, Tony tried shooting at the Hulk with a laser. He repeated the action a couple more times, only to have the Hulk pick up a rock and toss it directly into his flight path. "Woah," Tony was barely able to move out of the way in time. "He's smarter than he looks."

"Don't you remember Manhattan, Tony? He's just a very large, very green, very angry version of Bruce. Bruce is smart, why shouldn't the Hulk show some of that intelligence?" Clint's voice came over the radio. "If I can figure that one out, why can't you?"

"I _knew_ that." Tony was working out ideas as he hovered above the Hulk. "JARVIS, talk to me about where we're at." One idea crystallized as his AI gave him a visual map of where they were, and Tony landed. Picking up a rock, he carefully lifted off and flew closer to the Hulk. "Here, catch," he quipped as he dropped it. Surprised, he watched as the Hulk caught it, took a careful look, and threw it back.

"Are they…playing catch?" Clint blinked, taking a longer look. "They are. They're playing catch with rocks and debris."

"It's all being recorded." Natasha nodded. "This is fascinating, and something that the scientists never theorized would happen."

* * *

"_Damn_," Clint swore as he saw the headlights approaching the site. "Nat, need you. Now. Rhodey, backseat. Pepper, sit down and buckle up, you two are not here." He waited until Natasha was sitting in the co-pilot's seat. "Nat, ID those guys."

"Which guys," Natasha started. "I see them."

Clint glanced out the side window of the cockpit to make sure that the Hulk and Iron Man were still having their rock-throwing whatever. He wasn't entirely sure if it was a competition or an odd game of catch. "Nat?"

"Air Force." Natasha snapped out. "Clint, we gotta,"

"Yeah, I know. Stark, you and big 'n green are about to have company of a probably unfriendly sort. Can you get the Hulk to back up some?" Clint shook his head. "Wish Bruce had told us the secret of getting _him_ back."

"What about that sedative that you shot him with?" Rhodey didn't move under Clint's exasperated look.

"The gun doesn't have the range, and I don't have a rifle that can take darts with me. Although maybe I need to design a couple arrows, but I wasn't anticipating needing to take down the Hulk, just prevent Bruce from losing control." Clint shook his head. "Best option with that is to try and distract _that_ bunch while somebody goes and sneaks up on the Hulk." Looking at Natasha he continued, "Nat. Shoot or flirt?"

"Shoot." Natasha had been busy at a computer. "It's Ross, Clint."


	5. Chapter 5

Arguments! Anger! Ross! Many thanks to folks at the Beta Branch for catching all my mistakes.

* * *

Cursing under his breath, Clint landed the jet. "How the hell did he find us?" Clint asked the air as he stood up. "Rhodey and Pepper. You two _stay here_." He pulled out his cell phone and held it up. "If you see anything happen, call Jasper Sitwell and tell him that I've been made, then sit tight. He'll send the cavalry."

"Understand." Rhodey nodded, grabbing the phone. "Are you sure that you don't want any help?"

"General," Clint pointed outside the jet. "Colonel." He pointed at Rhodey. Pointing at himself he continued, "SHIELD agent who has no connection to the Air Force. _Technically_."

"Clint." Natasha was holding out a jacket. "You might need this."

Nodding, Clint grabbed the jacket and shrugged it on before handing the tranquilizer gun to Natasha and checking his handgun. "Nat, know what this means?"

"Yeah." Natasha was busy checking over the weapon before pulling on her own jacket and a dark hat. "Question is, who."

"What?" Pepper was starting to sound nervous.

"Somebody had to have told Ross where we were. I'd hate to think it was Blake, because he was the only person that knew our plans with those two." Clint jerked his head back, towards where the Hulk and Iron Man had last been seen. "It's also a little disturbing to know that Ross still has all those resources." Turning, he hit the controls to drop the back ramp. "Close this after us." Leaving the jet, he was aware of Natasha slipping over the edge of the ramp and disappearing into the shadows. Striding up to the lead truck, Clint banged on the passenger-side door. When the window rolled down, he glanced up at the man. "Hi. You're on private property; I'd suggest turning around and leaving before I have to make you."

"You?" The man snorted and picked up a radio. "Sir, we've got some civilian here saying that we're trespassing."

"Ayup." Clint grinned, rocking back on his heels. "Although I'm not a civilian; this is SHIELD property. So if you could just point me to General Ross, you won't have to work so hard. And maybe if you're smart, you'll turn around before your pretty new truck gets destroyed. Didn't you know that the Hulk is here, and he's not really a fan?"

"With what we got, that doesn't matter." The tone was becoming decidedly confrontational, and Clint slowly moved his hands out of his pockets. A faint click had him reaching for his handgun. "So are you going to back off or am I going to have to make you?"

* * *

Tony hadn't been surprised by the Air Force showing up; he knew that the SHIELD phones were being monitored. He'd traced it back to the Helicarrier and so hadn't said anything at the time, but the sudden change had him reconsidering his decisions. "Agent Romanoff, am I to understand that you're going to try to shoot the Hulk?"

"Not try," Natasha was carefully moving towards where she'd last seen the Hulk and Iron Man. "Am." She kept herself from jumping when Iron Man suddenly landed in front of her.

"Give it here. Is there any one spot in particular that I should aim for?" Tony held out his hand, unsure if he actually wanted to be the one responsible for shooting the Hulk.

"No," Natasha shook her head. "Let me." She took a breath. "Although I'll need your help if I just make him mad." She forced herself to relax as the ground started to tremble slightly.

"You know," Tony started, "if he's smarter than he appears, why not try talking to him?"

"You try, then, and see how far you get." Natasha snapped as the Hulk came into view. Carefully sliding the gun into a pocket, she just looked at Tony. "Well?"

"Why, Agent Romanoff, you're making me think you're scared of the Hulk." Tony rolled his eyes. "What do you want him to do? Go away, turn back into Bruce, dance the tango…"

"Keep him away from Ross. In whatever form." Setting her shoulders, Natasha raised her chin slightly. "Clint's working on getting the Air Force out of here."

"Shame. The tango would have been interesting, although I probably would have had to let him lead." Tony took off, flying towards the Hulk. "Hulk! No smash!" He grinned at the look on the Hulk's face. "Actually, stay."

The Hulk snorted and kept moving. Stopping in front of Natasha, he bent lower, staring her in the face. Tony watched as he reached out and lightly poked her shoulder with a finger, before moving so that he could watch both Tony and Natasha. "Stay." He sat down.

"Somebody's grumpy." Tony landed and raised his visor. "Sorry, Hulk. Not safe for anybody taller than six feet." Ignoring the look he was getting from the Hulk, he turned to Natasha. "So, did you know that your communications with the Helicarrier are being monitored?"

* * *

Clint carefully kept his face blank as Natasha's report came over his radio and he continued to stare at the airman resting a gun on the edge of the truck window. "You know," he kept his voice calm. "You really shouldn't point that thing at somebody you're not willing to kill. Are you willing to do that? Won't be able to cover it up since I've got witnesses, and so you'd be looking at getting in trouble." Shifting slightly, he nodded as he saw the airman flick the safety on and pull the gun back inside the cab of the truck. "Good. Now, are you going to get me General Ross?" Stepping back as he saw headlights from a car approaching, Clint had an idea. "Stark. I could use you up here."

"Why?" Tony was honestly curious, glancing between the Hulk and Natasha. At his curious look, she just shrugged.

"By all reports, Ross is an ass. You can be an ass right back at him, and I did see some of those Congressional hearings two years ago. Hurry up."

Tony looked at Natasha again. She just shook her head, staring at the Hulk. "I think we'll be okay."

"Your shaking hand indicates otherwise, Agent Romanoff." Tony shut his visor, turning to stare at the Hulk. "Hulk, stay with Agent Romanoff." Lifting off, Tony quickly located the Quinjet. "JARVIS, see if you can track down who called Ross."

"That is outside your current capabilities, sir?"

"Funny, J." Tony landed and ordered his armor off as he gave a jaunty wave to Rhodey and Pepper. "But I do need to focus for this one. I think I remember meeting this guy before. If I haven't, he's high-ranking military and we both know what they're usually like."

"Your logic astounds me, sir." The AI automatically rerouted its voice to transmit through Tony's phone. "You were called in as a consultant to discuss the feasibility of releasing British Royal Marine Blonsky to SHIELD custody."

"Him. Right." Tony nodded as he started walking towards the Air Force vehicles. "Sad drunk, I bought the bar. What did I do with that?"

"The building was demolished, sir."

"Huh." Tony shrugged. "So, Agent Barton, I'm an ass? I much prefer the words spoiled and entitled and General Ross! _So_ nice to see you again." Moving forward, Tony held his hand out. "What brings you to this part of the world and now that the social lies are done with, you can go home now."

"Stark," Ross growled, ignoring Tony's hand. "You're between me and my objective. Move."

"Agent Barton?" Tony feigned surprised as he turned around to stare at Clint. Looking at Ross, he continued, "I didn't think that the Air Force used assassins, much less ones that use a bow and arrow. Or no." He started pacing back and forth. "The Quinjet. Well, Colonel Rhodes has been trying to get that sort of information out of me for years, and if one of my closest friends hasn't been successful, what makes you think that you'll be? You know Colonel Rhodes, right? The official Air Force liaison to Stark Industries? And these days also the operator of the War Machine armor? Which, I should probably tell you, is _technically_ only being loaned to the Air Force with quite a few stipulations involved in keeping it there." He ignored Clint's quiet "Stark" and continued pacing. "Now, as I recall, you were reprimanded pretty severely and given a new set of duties, which," he stopped, pointing directly at Ross, "_don't_ include driving out to the middle of the New Mexico desert in the middle of the night."

"Times change." Ross held up an envelope. "I've been ordered to bring the monster in for testing."

"Monster? What monster? I don't see a monster here, do you Agent Barton?"

"Last monster I saw wasn't even from this planet." Clint crossed his arms over his chest. "And like I told the kid over there, you're on private property. So leave."

Ross laughed. "No such thing as private property these days." Lightly tapping the envelope against his free hand, he moved forward and held it out. "I believe these orders cover this area, as well."

Clint took the envelope. As he pulled the papers out and started reading, Tony glanced between the two men. "So, General, who exactly is this monster that you're supposed to be after?"

"You know him," Clint glanced up. "Big, green, helped save the world last year. Alter ego's a college professor." Returning the papers to Ross, Clint shrugged. "Don't recognize any of those names, General Ross. Although you're certainly welcome to wait while I try to get some clarification."

Tony wasn't quite sure if he wanted to follow Clint when the agent jerked his head and moved off a few steps, but curiosity got the better of him and Tony hurried over. "What?"

"Banner's back, so we're going to make a run for it. We're just going to have to move quickly."

"What about all of them?" Tony was trying to decide if he should just write his current suit off as a loss right now. "They have bigger guns than you do."

"We're not going to fight. This isn't the movies; I can't disable their vehicles with a handgun, and I'm not about to start killing these kids just to keep Banner safe." Clint had pulled out his phone and was pretending to push buttons. "My assignment is to keep him out of Ross' hands, not to start a bloodbath. If they start anything, I'll do my damn best to finish it, but right now he's just talking." Glancing up, Clint shook his head. "Sorry to ask this, but do you mind if we get some crash space from you for tonight? We had a safe house all set up near San Francisco, but I suspect it's been compromised."

Tony hesitated – nights always seemed to be the worst for dealing with Extremis, and he had grown to hate worrying about Pepper. But with the notable exception of Bruce picking an argument, the past few hours had been almost relaxing. "I think we can figure something out, as long as nobody starts anything."

"We'll try." Clint nodded, turning to head back to the Quinjet. Not knowing if he was expected to fly in the jet or in his armor, Tony followed. "And thanks, Tony. We'll be out of your hair as soon as possible tomorrow morning."

"Hey!" Ross' shout had the men stopping. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Seems to be something wrong with my phone." Tony bit back his laugh at how smoothly Clint was able to create a lie. "So I need to go use the radio. Stark's coming with me because I was told to not leave him alone around anything mechanical."

Frowning, Ross gestured over his shoulder. "Take one of my men with you, and that's not negotiable, Stark."

Clint just nodded and started walking again. Tony glanced between the SHIELD agent and the airman that was following the two of them. "So, how is all this supposed to work?"

"It's supposed to work," Clint started as the group reached the Quinjet and the ramp lowered, "by leaving behind uninvited guests." Suddenly turning, he punched the airman in the jaw. Raising the ramp as the airman stumbled to the ground, he moved to the cockpit and shook his head. "Nat?"

"Ready," Natasha's voice crackled over the radio. "Banner and I are getting a little cold."

* * *

Natasha stared after Tony before returning her gaze to the Hulk. She wrapped her arms around her chest, trying to keep her coat closed while still having ready access to the dart gun. "This is a desert in New Mexico," she muttered. "You'd think it would be warmer." Able to make out the dim shape of the Hulk, she carefully sat down and wrapped her coat around her knees. "It's not easy, you know," she started, desperate for a distraction. "I've tried to understand, but you're something that I've never seen before. Truly invincible. What you can do, that doesn't disturb me. It's what you are, and what that implies that is scary."

Natasha fell silent then and continued to stare at the Hulk. As he shifted restlessly, she shook her head. "I'm sorry that I'm not Tony, able to throw large rocks around. And that somebody told Ross where we are." With a sigh, she tensed slightly as the Hulk stood up. "Hulk, stay." Fingering her gun, Natasha watched as the Hulk moved closer. "_Stay back._"

With a snort, the Hulk ignored her commands. "No," he rumbled, sitting down with a thump next to Natasha. "Cold."

"You go swimming in the Atlantic Ocean, and you are saying that you are cold?" Natasha didn't care that her laughter was slightly tinged with hysteria. Unconsciously shifting closer to the Hulk in search of warmth, she continued, "I wish Bruce was here, though, because that way we could just get out of here. I feel no shame in running away from this." She shoved herself back as she became suddenly aware of strange ripples moving through the Hulk and turned to watch as the dark outline of the Hulk suddenly shrank. "Doctor Banner?"

Bruce realized that he was laying on sand and rocks, and that it was incredibly cold. "At least that headache is gone," he muttered as he sat up and saw the rough outline of a person. "What happened?"

The first response he got was a jacket landing in his lap as Natasha's voice came from the darkness. "The Air Force showed up. Clint, Banner is back. We're good to go."

"Of course," Bruce muttered as he took the jacket and draped it over his shoulders. Grateful for the small protection it offered, he took stock of the status of the rest of his clothing. Pants were shredded, but they'd probably hold together until he was able to get to his bag. Everything else…Bruce didn't know where it was. "And please, Agent Romanoff, call me Bruce. It's confusing, to have only one person here not calling me that."

"Last time I tried that," Natasha countered, "Things didn't turn out so well."

"If I remember correctly, last time was a bit higher stress than right now," Bruce corrected. He found himself falling into the tones and cadences he used when lecturing, which he found slightly odd. "I dare say that I'm able to better control myself, seeing as how we haven't been attacked."

"Bruce." The little of Natasha's face that Bruce could see looked odd, almost as if she'd bitten into something sour. "Are you able to walk?"

"Where?" Bruce glanced around. "Not to the closest town or city or wherever."

"No, they'll come to get us. Just a second, I'll let the others know." Bruce tried to draw the jacket closer around him as he saw Natasha reach up to her ear. "Ready. Banner and I are getting a little cold."

"A little," Bruce didn't try to control his shivering as he laughed slightly. "Do you normally understate things like that?"

Natasha returned Bruce's laugh. "Constantly." She glanced up at the sound of a truck. "Clint, we're about to have company down here." Bruce heard her curse quietly in what he thought was Russian. "Can Stark? Okay. Bruce, how are you feeling?"

"Confused." Bruce slowly stood up, trying to adjust his clothing to best keep warm. "I remember Tony's lab, then waking up around here somewhere, and waking up again just now. And I've a strange desire to play catch?"

"The Hulk was playing catch with Iron Man, as best as we could tell." Natasha quickly moved to Bruce's side and dug in a pocket of the jacket. "Unfortunately, somebody told General Ross where you were, and he came looking." A sudden lightness told Bruce that she'd taken something out.

Bruce felt a surge of panic and forced himself to try to speak calmly. It took a larger effort than he'd expected; instincts he'd thought long gone were suddenly screaming at him to run as far away as possible, as fast as possible. "Ross is here, too. Lovely." He didn't think that he was able to cover it up very well when Natasha suddenly grabbed the sides of his face.

"Bruce." Her voice was firm. "Listen to me. I have two instructions for you right now. The first is to _stay yourself_. The Hulk _cannot_ come out now, and that is not my fear talking. The amount of vehicles that we saw suggests that he came prepared, and there's a very good chance that we're going to have to fight our way out in the jet. That is easiest without the Hulk. Two. Follow my instructions. The jet will be here momentarily, and that is just a single truck, not the entire caravan. Can you follow my instructions?" Bruce simply nodded and felt Natasha's hand lightly pat his cheek before letting go. "Good. And remember, my instructions included keeping you away from Ross, and I refuse to fail at things that I can control. He is just one man, incredibly deluded, who has been given some power that has since gone to his head."

"With the support of the United States Air Force," Bruce retorted. "I wonder if this is how criminals feel."

"No. They don't go around blaming themselves for the actions and mindsets of others." Natasha had moved away slightly and was turning in a circle. "Or blaming themselves for the fact that accidents happen. You do. To extremes."

Bruce let her statement distract him. "I don't think I'd call it taking things to extremes, exactly. If I hadn't done all that, the Other Guy wouldn't be here and he wouldn't have done all that damage."

"True, but the fight against Loki would have been much harder." Bruce found that he was appreciating Natasha's pragmatic outlook even as the sound of the truck grew louder and he saw headlights. "Clint," he heard her say, then start talking quickly in broken phrases. He guessed that the two SHIELD agents understood each other. At least, he hoped they did.

Whatever final result they came to didn't appear to Bruce to be the one she was looking for, as he heard her spit out another curse and the cocking of a gun. Almost simultaneously he saw Iron Man land. "Hello, Tony."

"Tony's not in right now, if you'd like to leave a message he'll get back to you as soon as is feasible." Bruce snorted, glad for the additional distraction from the approaching truck and what it meant. He let a corner of his mind puzzle over the statement and what it meant – Tony probably wasn't in the suit and that raised questions of things like range between the suit and Tony, and what would happen if the suit was destroyed while Tony was operating it remotely.

"…that, Bruce?" Natasha's question brought Bruce back to reality with a mental thump. "Well?"

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" Bruce shook his head. Focus on the here and now, not the theoretical ideas behind a nanotechnological virus and how Tony Stark was using it.

"I said, we're going to have to move quickly. Can you do that?"

Bruce took stock of how he felt. Stiff, sore, cold…nothing too far out of the usual. "Yes."

"Good," Natasha moved closer to Bruce and the Iron Man armor. As the truck pulled up and a couple men jumped out, she muttered in a low tone, "trust me."

"Trust you?" Bruce started to say as she grabbed his arm. A glance at her face showed him that Natasha was looking grim, and Bruce couldn't help but start to feel worried. "Agent Romanoff, this is not keeping me very calm."

"Shut _up_, Bruce," Natasha muttered. Bruce gritted his teeth and tried to resist the impulse to be sarcastic.

"Thank you, Agent, we'll take him from here." Even after several years of working with Air Force personnel, Bruce wasn't able to distinguish ranks beyond "enlisted" and "officer." The man that had spoken was wearing too much metal to be anything but an officer.

"I'm sorry, Major, but he's currently in SHIELD custody." Natasha's voice was cool. "And possession is nine tenths of the law."

"Look, Agent," the man started, "I don't want a fuss. We're here to take Doctor Banner _or_ the Hulk with us. Besides, doesn't the fact that we've got superior firepower outweigh that tired old adage?" Bruce had to suppress his laughter. "So would you please just hand him over?"

"You make him sound like a piece of meat," Tony's voice echoed out of the Iron Man armor. "How rude of you. Didn't your mother teach you better? Officer and a gentleman you are not."

Bruce thought he could see a flash of laughter in Natasha's eyes at Tony's remarks. He could feel one of half-a-dozen sarcastic comments wanting to come out but, remembering Natasha's instructions, forced himself to stay quiet. He did allow the small smile to emerge at the total absurdity of the situation. That, however, quickly vanished as he saw the guns and felt the cold metal of Natasha's gun resting against the back of his upper arm.

"You do realize that should you fire on us," Natasha said, "It will be considered a direct attack on a government organization by another government organization, and you will be subjected to not only your rules of conduct, but to SHIELD's? Believe me, we are far less forgiving of that sort of thing than the Judge Advocate General." Stepping backwards slightly and tugging Bruce along, Natasha shook her head. "It is in your best interest to simply leave us alone."

"We have orders. Banner or the beast, form doesn't matter." There was a tone of pride in the officer's voice. "We've got the finest Hulkbuster equipment, it won't stand a chance. Airman."

The airman took a step forward, beckoning to Bruce. "If you would please come with me, Doctor Banner."

"What part of 'no' do you not understand? Even _I _understand what the word means." The metallic tones of Tony's voice coming through the speakers on the Iron Man suit managed to convey exasperation and a smug superiority. "And haven't people realized that I _don't_ like to share my stuff?"

Bruce tensed, and felt Natasha's grip on his arm tighten, as more vehicles drove up and formed a loose circle with the three of them in the center. "Clint," she hissed. "_He's_ here."

Ross stepped into the circle illuminated by all the headlights. "Hello, Doctor Banner." He nodded. "Heard from Betty recently?"

All the dread and terror that had been filling Bruce was suddenly replaced with anger. Good. He _liked_ the anger. It was useful. Mindful of Natasha's grip on his arm Bruce ignored the fact that she'd told him to keep quiet and laughed, a short, bitter bark. "Of course not. But you'd know that, since you've probably been watching her. 'For your own good, Bruce,' she said. In an e-mail no less, so I've always wondered if that was _her_ or if that was _you_. And then the fact that she ended up leaving Culver. Where is she now? Hawaii? Alaska? Some private company? I haven't been able to find anything on her." Ignoring the warning squeeze on his arm from Natasha, Bruce straightened up and sneered. "Has she started speaking to you yet? Last I knew, she wasn't."

He knew he'd won at least a small victory when Ross' face started to turn red. "Keep your damn mouth shut, Banner. It was for her own good. She's too good for you."

"Of course she is," Bruce quietly agreed before Natasha was able to slap a hand over his mouth.

"_Shut up_," she hissed quietly. "You're making it worse."

Everything suddenly seemed to happen at once. The Iron Man armor swung around and fired at a truck as a Quinjet hovered, back ramp lowered. Natasha shoved Bruce towards the jet as Ross sprung forward with a snarl. Bruce felt a hand brush his back, suddenly feeling the chill of the air when the hand grabbed at the jacket draped over his shoulders. Not turning around, he just hurried into the jet. He felt, more than saw, something go flying out of the jet and stumbled into a seat. Turning, Bruce saw Natasha being held by an arm. "Wha-" he started.

Rhodey tossed a blanket over Bruce's head. By the time he'd managed to get untangled, Bruce realized that the jet was in the air. "These SHIELD agents seem to know their jobs." The Air Force Colonel slumped into the seat next to Bruce.

It was then Bruce discovered that he couldn't see Natasha. "Where's Natasha?"

"Nat'll be fine," Clint's voice was grim. "Easier for her to get out than it would be for us to break in and get you out. Hopefully it'll only be a couple days."

"No," Bruce stood up and wrapped the blanket around himself. "You don't understand. Let me go back." Absentmindedly nodding to Pepper and Tony, Bruce moved to be closer to the cockpit. "They could hurt her."

"They won't. She's got her things. I'll be able to find her, and she knows it. Besides," here Clint started to sound calm and in control, "Nat came up with this plan."

"Dammit!" Bruce roared, enjoying the way that he saw people jump. Modulating his tone, he continued, "I didn't agree to that. Turn this jet around _right now_. Besides-"

"Besides," Clint interrupted him, voice cold. "You obviously haven't remembered a single damn thing that Natasha and I have told you. You end up in Ross' hands, you will, at the very least, be subject to things that will destroy your mind. If you're lucky, it'll just kill you quickly. Remember that we tested the tranquilizer on whatever Blonsky had become? I wish to every single deity out there that I was cleared to get him out of there. Alive or dead, the shit that they were putting him through I wouldn't wish on _Loki_." He spat out the name. "So shut up, sit down, and let me and Nat do our jobs. She's a professional spy, Bruce, she's been in worse in the past. She'll end up in worse in the future. Do I wish that there was a way to get us all out of there? Yes. But it was obvious that there wasn't. Unless you'd want me to go back and start shooting everything up? My orders were about you and not killing anybody unless there were no other options."

Bruce could hear his anger roaring in his head; for once in recent memory, it didn't have the overtones that he'd come to associate with the Hulk. "Maybe," his voice was quiet and he recognized the tone as one that he'd only heard from his father, "Maybe I would have appreciated being told what was going on instead of being drugged and thrown around." Turning around, he stalked to the very rear of the jet and threw himself into a seat.


	6. Chapter 6

Enjoy. And adore the beta readers.

* * *

Consciously, Bruce was aware that he was putting on a performance rivaled only by some of the more spoiled Culver students. It was selfish of him, he acknowledged, but he didn't trust himself to say anything to anybody but Pepper. The guilt of having left Natasha behind kept eating at him and he couldn't figure out just why Clint had sounded so blasé about it. Somebody – he suspected Tony – had managed to obtain his latest research data and have it waiting when Bruce woke up the morning after the disastrous meeting with Ross, which allowed him to try to force his mind into analyzing it. He managed to get to the point after a couple days that there were times that he was almost able to forget that he wasn't at Culver or at home. Then reality came crashing in when he reached out for a mug that wasn't there, or glanced up from the computer and didn't see familiar walls.

He was _really_ starting to miss his students. A bad sign, he knew, when he wanted to be dealing with the football team.

Bruce was slouched in a chair in Tony's kitchen morosely staring at a plate of food one afternoon when he heard quick, self-assured footsteps approaching. Expecting Pepper, he was surprised when Natasha strode in wearing an Air Force uniform, a satisfied grin, and a black eye. "Where's Clint?" Were the first words out of her mouth as she carelessly dropped a bag on the table. When Bruce just glared sourly at her, she shrugged. "JARVIS?"

"Agent Barton is currently in the lab. He is aware of your return and is making his way to the kitchen," the AI said. Bruce wordlessly picked up his plate as he stood up from the table and stalked out the door. Confused, Natasha watched him leave before moving to get a glass of water. She didn't turn around as she heard a whisper of sound. "What's with him?"

"He's…a little annoyed." Natasha mentally winced at the undertones to Clint's statement. The archer moved to lean against the counter next to her and continued, "I tried to explain that it was all planned out, but I'm just glad that he's got enough control over his transformations because I didn't have any more sedative ready to go. Way he was sounding on the jet, I was getting worried. Now he won't even stay in the same room with me. It's almost as bad with Tony and Pepper." With a wry grin, he finally glanced at Natasha. "I think I've really managed to screw this one up. Ice?"

"For somebody so smart, you really don't have much luck with physicists, do you?" Natasha jumped up on the counter and gratefully accepted the cold pack she was handed. "First Selvig, now Bruce. Lockdown?"

"Yeah. JARVIS won't let him out of the house. He goes green, I just figure we'd deal with that then. I did get Tony to let me fix up some more darts, though. Have enough for the both of us. Gun?"

"Lost it." Natasha shook her head. "Managed to dump the drug, though. Did get some information before I stole a car." She nodded at the bag. "Couple hard drives, even some stuff on paper." With a sigh, she slid off the counter. "Guess I'll go try talking to Bruce. If you could find my clothes, I'd kill for a shower right now."

"Miss Potts has prepared a room for you, Agent Romanoff. She would like to know if you desire that shower now or later." At JARVIS' statement, Natasha perked up and smiled in pleasure.

"Now. Clint, I'm going to go pamper myself because Pepper has all the good stuff. Clothing please. I'm not about to beg clothes from her, too. Then I'll go and try to fix this mess."

"Sybarite," Clint smirked as he picked up the bag and headed for the door. "Your stuff's already up there. I'll start on all this."

Natasha snorted. "Five days, I think I deserve something." She eagerly headed for the promised shower.

* * *

Bruce had retreated to his room and was trying to work out the next step in his current research when he heard the knock on the door. Still deep in thought, he went and opened it. "Um, hello Agent Romanoff."

"Natasha, Bruce." Natasha had her arms crossed over her chest and was carefully looking at Bruce. "And hello." She pushed past the physicist into the room and headed straight for a seat by the window. "I'm feeling hurt."

The bruise on her face suddenly reminded Bruce of just why he was upset, and he didn't say anything as he shut the door and returned to his work. "You wouldn't be feeling hurt if you had just let me go with Ross," he muttered under his breath.

"No," Natasha's voice startled Bruce. He hadn't thought that he'd spoken loud enough for her to hear. "I'd be feeling mad, guilty, and upset. I don't like feeling like that, not when I'm in a situation that I've full control over. It's only a bruise, it will heal. I've had worse."

Bruce glanced over. Natasha was stretched out, eyes closed, resembling a cat in a beam of sunlight more than a deadly SHIELD agent. "Hah," he said flatly. "I-"

"You, you, you. Is it truly all about Bruce?" Natasha didn't move. "I think there's something more. You've hurt Clint deeply, you know. He doesn't like very many people, and when he was told to go check up on you he was rather excited. Punch drunk with exhaustion, yes, but still excited. He likes physics and wanted to look at a few of your books, listen in on a lecture or two. Maybe learn more about who Bruce Banner is. Add to the SHIELD file on you, true, but maybe he wanted to, oh, be more than a stranger?"

"Then why did he say that he was going to climb a tree and camp out in my attic?" Bruce shook his head, rejecting Natasha's statements.

"He bent the truth slightly. He was only going to spend a night there, and then his idea was to visit you at Culver. What would be more exciting to the poor saps in charge of the University, having two of the heroes who saved the world together in one place, even if they ended up being the two most introverted ones? Well," eyes still shut, Natasha tilted her head slightly. "Having more, but I was quite happily asleep; Tony was here, hiding away from the world and dealing with Extremis; Thor hasn't returned to Earth, to the best of SHIELD's knowledge; and I'm really not quite sure what Steve was doing."

"How do I know you aren't lying to me?" Bruce put his pen down and turned in his chair.

"How do you know I am?" Natasha stretched, reminding Bruce even more of a cat. "We still haven't tracked down who told Ross about our visiting the Pegasus base to let the Hulk out to play, or who bugged your house and office. While I wouldn't mind staying here for the rest of my life, Ross knows that Tony's involved with us now and so we really can't hide out here much longer. Another day or two, probably, and then any delaying tactics we can use won't work. If it's all the same to you, I would rather not have to run away at the last minute. You always seem to leave something behind. Like your _partner_. Ask nicely, and we may tell you stories."

Bruce couldn't hold back his snort of laughter at the dry tone of Natasha's voice. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what? The plan? Ross isn't stupid, Bruce. Stubborn, single-minded, and strongly opinionated, yes; I don't know how a man like him could become a general, but he would have seen through you attempting to fake a reaction. We needed your fears, your anger to be real. I am sure that Clint told you that my plan was to be taken in your place if needed." Natasha opened her eyes and stared at Bruce. "That was the plan then, and it remains the plan now. Our mission, Bruce, is to keep you out of Ross' hands. If that means that I spend a few days wreaking havoc and stealing cars, so be it. Although I would like to know how much of what _you_ were telling Ross was true. He certainly was upset."

"Betty was my girlfriend," Bruce started. "She's a biologist, and helped recruit me into the project. Ross was never really very happy that we were dating; he wanted her to end up with somebody that fit his ideals of what a man should be. I…wasn't." He sighed. "I guess after the accident, I should have realized that it was time for me to move on, but I couldn't. My goal was to get rid of the Other Guy and return to Culver. To Betty. She moved on, slightly, but when Ross found me in Rio…she saw me in the restaurant. There was still something there. I haven't seen her since Harlem."

"Seven years is a long time to be holding onto a dream," Natasha observed. She closed her eyes and turned her face back to the sun. "You think that there is still something there? Or could it be that she has finally realized that you are too noble, too stubborn, too self-sacrificing to be able to be happy together?"

Bruce frowned. "Don't say that."

"Fine, then." Natasha smiled slightly. "I will discover where Betty Ross is then. A little present – no, apology – from me to you. But you, Bruce Banner, must stop your sulking and feelings of guilt, and be prepared to learn things that you might not want to hear. So, shall I?"

"I," Bruce ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know."

"Think about it then, and come join the rest of us." Natasha stood up and looked at Bruce. "I know where Pepper hides the good treats, and after the past few days I deserve chocolate."

* * *

"Nat!" Clint called out as Bruce trailed behind Natasha. He was sitting on the floor, papers spread out on a low table in front of him. "Good shower? Come take a look at this." He looked over warily as Bruce sat down nearby. "Bruce. Will you finally listen to me long enough so that I can finally say that I'm sorry?"

"For which part?" Bruce curiously glanced at the papers in front of Clint. "The drugs, the not telling me the truth, or the keeping me in the dark about everything?"

"Hmmm." Clint leaned back on his hands. "I won't apologize for drugging you. I never will. Truth…tell me what I lied about, then. Not telling you everything is a safety thing. Not to mention habit." He sighed, leaning forwards. "Look, Bruce. I really do want to like you. And part of me does. But the other part of me is looking at a man who spent the past few days sulking because he was safe and somebody who was trained for situations _just_ like that was, in his mind, not. And you were feeling guilty about that, too, which just added to your sulk. No, I'm apologizing because I didn't try harder in the first place and I didn't put myself in your shoes. Sure, I've got an apartment in New York; own the building actually. Great bunch of people living there, except when the cable goes out and folks can't watch their shows. Summer group barbeques on the roof and all, it's really fun. But I'm nomadic enough that I didn't think about how getting yanked away suddenly would affect you. So yeah. Sorry."

"Homesickness is a terrible thing, or so I've heard, and I think that's the bigger problem right now." Natasha sat down next to Clint. "Clint, you wouldn't know a good shower if it tied you down and gave you a PowerPoint presentation on what a shower requires to be truly classified as 'good.'"

Bruce chuckled lightly as he watched her take a bite of the chocolate bar she was holding. Clint glanced between the two of them with a small smile of his own. "Yeah, but at least I _own_ my own shower. What's so funny, Bruce?"

"She reminds me of a cat."

"Ah." Clint's grin grew. "Let me guess. She went to talk to you and found some sun?"

"Purr," Natasha deadpanned. "Like I said, I deserved something. Ross is one of _the_ most annoying men I've ever been around. That Major, Talbot I think, is a very close second. I don't know how his wife can stand to kiss him, with that breath."

"Sybarite," Clint shot at her. "Shower, sun, _and_ chocolate? That's more than 'something.'"

"You used that one already. Ascetic."

"Hedonist."

"Troglodyte."

"Oog." Both Clint and Natasha started laughing. "Sorry, Bruce. It's a thing."

"Remember," Natasha gasped, wiping tears from her eyes. "Remember when Phil heard that for the first time? I thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head."

"Or Fury?" Clint shook his head. "His _face_…" Bruce watched as the two SHIELD agents started cracking up again.

"These are the people I'm supposed to trust with my well-being?" Bruce murmured to himself as he reached out for the papers sitting in front of Clint. He jumped slightly when the archer's head whipped around to stare at him. "Just how good _is_ your hearing?"

"All work and no play make Clint and Natasha edgy and stressed," Clint said delicately. "Are you sure that you want to be looking at that? It's mostly medical reports and you're not that sort of doctor. The pictures are kinda out there, too."

"That doesn't mean I don't know a little. I _did_ study some biology and chemistry, not just physics." Bruce kept reaching out for the papers and he moved closer to the two agents. His curiosity was twigged, even if he was still wary about working with Clint. He hadn't completely decided about Natasha.

"Then let's just try no, you can't see this. You don't have the security clearance and I don't want you to see it." Clint piled the papers together. "Nat, idea."

"Oh?" Natasha was licking her fingers. "Make it quick; I want to get started on getting set up to move on."

"My place? Bruce can have the couch. I can," Clint frowned. "I can actually have one of my tenants kill any bugs that might be there. It happens regularly enough that it shouldn't be a problem if I'm actually being watched, and we won't have to worry about figuring out which safe house is actually safe. Actually, I'll call Kate, that kid from 3B who waters my plants and who always wants me to teach her archery. She's got a key and is trustworthy enough, although it means spilling just why the power seems to flicker every so often. Girl can't keep a secret sometimes."

"But you _hate_-" Bruce watched and listened as the two went back and forth. When it appeared that they weren't about to stop, he stood up and headed for the stairs. He owed an apology to Tony.

* * *

"I thought I could be childish," Tony announced as Bruce entered his lab. "But you really put some of my antics to shame, Bruce."

"Thank you for getting my data." Bruce ignored Tony's statement. "And for letting me stay here."

"Well, yeah," Tony said lightly. "I haven't been able to spend all that much time on breaking through firewalls and tracking down the information that your babysitters asked me to, but if you're willing to work down here and talk to me again, I might be able to speed everything up."

"Is that a bribe?" Bruce felt encouraged at the lack of outright rejection. "Although I'm at a point where I need to talk with some other people about my research, and I don't think I can. I'd also like to know what's going on with my classes, and how badly those SHIELD agents have damaged everything."

"Good. You can look at this then." Tony pulled up some data with a flick of a hand. "That Helicarrier deal, I actually had an idea but could use your input." Bruce watched as Tony gestured and the data moved to the side next to a model of something that Bruce couldn't immediately identify. "You see, I don't understand why they want two different power systems, but I think that they could be integrated even more, made even cleaner and safer." Intrigued, Bruce moved closer and saw what Tony was trying to do.

With a glance at Tony, Bruce pointed at the data. "Where did you get all that?"

"Have to use my backdoor into SHIELD somehow, right?" Tony grinned. "So, my amazingly zen pet physicist, any chance I can entice you _now_ into joining up?"

"No," Bruce shook his head, peering closer at the numbers. Something didn't feel quite right about how they added up. "I like Culver." A thought struck him and he turned to look at Tony. "And I have a funny feeling about what you might do. I'm not leaving Culver unless I absolutely have to. And I'm not one of your toys."

"How?" Tony shook his head. "JARVIS, tell Pepper we're making a donation to Culver."

"JARVIS, please don't." Bruce sighed. "Tony, please."

"You _yelled_ at me." Tony didn't take his gaze away from the hologram. "Nobody's done that in a few months. Maybe I need somebody to yell at me once in a while about things that don't have to do with public image or how I treat others. And you just told me no, again. Why, I don't know because when I was at MIT people were always complaining about lack of funding and I don't think that anything has really changed since then. What would you like? New lab? New computer systems? Your own personal AI?"

"I owe SHIELD for something; I'm really not quite sure what right now. I owe Clint and Natasha, personally, for what they've done over the past week. I owe you for opening your house to me and for helping with the Hulk," Bruce listed. "I don't want to be indebted to anybody more than I need to be."

"Bah." Tony waved off Bruce's statement. "I wanted to. Just like I want to offer you a place to stay if you're ever in New York. JARVIS," he started. "Is it?"

"Construction is almost completed, sir. If sir would take a moment to reconsider?"

"J, you wound me. Deeply. You have to _ask_ them for access. Bruce, I've remodeled my tower in New York. Just…you know. If you're ever looking for a place to stay. Short term or maybe even on a permanent basis." Tony shrugged. "All that research space, too. I'm going to extend the invitation to the others, too. I haven't looked into how SHIELD treats their agents, but since it'd be the two of them, you, me and Pepper, and Steve, Pepper and I figured out enough space so that everybody could have their own floor. It was mostly Pepper; I figure she gets maybe half of the credit for it this time."

"I…" Bruce hadn't expected their conversation to take the turn it had. "I don't think you'll get Clint there. He has an apartment already."

"Why would he even want to live in something other than what I can give him?" Tony shook his head.

"Maybe because he owns it and it sounds like he likes it?" Bruce felt a wry smile emerging. "Although I've heard so many different things from them, I don't know what to believe right now."

"I claim no excuses if I didn't say everything straight that first night, Bruce." Clint's voice had the two scientists turning to stare at the door. "I can't even remember half of the things that we talked about, and I'm still surprised that I even managed to _make_ it to Virginia. Almost drove off the road a few times." Casually strolling over with his hands in his pockets, the SHIELD agent glanced over the hologram. "Helicarrier power systems again? Cool. And Bruce, if you want to check in, just let me or Nat know. You're not forbidden from communicating with anybody, we just want to make sure you're not sending out distress signals that will tell people where we are. I _think_ your bosses were told that you were being called out on an important consulting project, very secret, and that they'd get their professor back in a bit." He quirked an eyebrow at Bruce. "If you hadn't been in such a sulk over the past few days, I'd've offered sooner."

Turning, he jerked his head at Bruce and started to head over to a table shoved against one wall. "Here. I'll get you set up. And I really wasn't lying about owning the building, either. SHIELD gives hazard pay, and I'm in a lot of hazardous situations. Don't really need the money for more than the basics, but they keep on _paying_ me for some strange reason. Previous owner didn't care, so I just tossed some cash at her. Evicted the landlord because he was a jerk and useless, chased off a few of his friends, and now I've got my retirement all set up." He shrugged. "If I even do get to retire."

Bruce followed Clint over. "That's…depressingly cheerful." Glancing over the table, he noticed a wide variety of projectiles. "Tony, I thought you didn't do weapons anymore?"

"He doesn't, at least not these." Clint had pulled up the Culver website on a computer. "I make my own specialty ones." He glanced over at Bruce with a small grin. "Always surprises people, that I make my own. What can I say, I get bored. And if you've any suggestions for things that might work to just slow the Hulk down, that'd be appreciated."

"Ah." Bruce was focused on his e-mails. "Damn, I did have a test scheduled, didn't I…guess I have to figure that out. Can't give it online, and I didn't have one made up yet. I can…" he trailed off. "Do something. I don't know what," he finished helplessly.

"Give them a vacation and come give me your opinion on this," Tony called out. "Or just give them all C's. That's average, right?"

"Not these days. Give me a minute." Bruce shook his head, quickly typing an e-mail postponing the test. "There. That's easier."

"How is C not considered average? It's the middle of the grading scale. On a bell curve scale, it's exactly the middle and covers 65% of the curve. It's-"

"I've had students cry when they've gotten a B, Tony. It's the prevailing attitude these days that B is average and everybody deserves an A, sometimes for just showing up." Bruce was focused on his work. "I'm just glad that I'm not teaching a chemistry lab because students just don't listen. Clint, if you're going to lurk, do it in my line of sight. I don't feel comfortable with you standing behind me." He frowned. "Huh. There goes that idea." Bruce stared at the e-mail thoughtfully. "Back to the drawing board, I guess."

"Bruce." Clint's voice was quiet. "Let's chat. It's pretty nice outside. Tony, I'm going to need you to finish that stuff. I'm overlooking that hack you've got into SHIELD, by the way. As long as you don't cause problems, have fun. We're probably going to be moving on in a day or two, now that Nat's here and we've worked out travel plans."

Clint had obviously thought this out, Bruce thought, as the SHIELD agent led him to a balcony overlooking the ocean. "Nat pointed out to me that I _suck_ as a bodyguard for physicists," the agent started. "First with Selvig, now with you."

"You know Eric Selvig?" Bruce leaned against the railing, enjoying the fresh air. "He never really talked about his experiences while he was studying the Tesseract, outside that he was tired of being stuck underground. He likes to see the stars once in a while, and I guess that wherever you'd stuck him had too many lights on at night."

"Cursed." Clint dropped his head into one hand. "I'm cursed with the old boys' club of physicists. I tell myself that although Nat would've been the better choice with Selvig, putting her at that base would've resulted in bloodshed because of all the men there, and maybe I can get some of my questions answered. But no, he is nice and pleasant at first and then gets touchy. I back off. Then that whole Loki debacle happened, and a week ago I'm told 'Welcome back Agent Barton, go check up on Banner. Be there yesterday.' Manage to completely piss _you_ off, too, resulting in being given the silent treatment for almost a week. Is there an instruction manual for dealing with you people?"

"Yes," Bruce said simply. "Don't lie to us, don't assume that we've got our heads stuck in an experiment or a book, and treat us like humans, not cattle or luggage." He sighed. "Natasha was right, by the way. I'm homesick and I'm taking it out on you. I'm sorry for that."

Out of the corner of his eye, Bruce saw Clint nod thoughtfully. "So, how about this. Start over?" He held out his hand. "Agent Clint Barton from SHIELD. If you'll put up with me and my crazy Russian partner, Agent Natasha Romanoff, for an unknown amount of time, we've been tasked with trying to keep you away from Ross. Not quite sure if you remember us from last year and that lovely little alien invasion, but Tony Stark did drag us all out for food and there were a few days of debriefings afterwards."

"I don't remember seeing you in the debriefings that I was in." Bruce shook his head and ignored Clint's hand. "And you don't need to do this. I apologize to you, you apologize to me, and we both act like adults and acknowledge that we're essentially still strangers. And maybe let me outside or at least open a window; being told by a disembodied voice that it's 'oh so very sorry, Doctor Banner, but that window cannot be opened' gets a little frustrating."

"I can see that. But can you see my side? You decide to vanish and it'll take us a few days to find you, and we'd be wondering the entire time if it was because you went off on your own or because somebody snuck in and grabbed you. Ross is looking, he's got support from someplace that hopefully Tony will be able to track down, and he probably has more resources than Nat and I do. I wasn't even completely sure that we were going to be able to get away from him in New Mexico if he'd decided to fire on us, and there were just too many other people there to risk. Had you or Pepper gotten hurt I don't even want to think of what Tony would have done."

"If you try, I'll try." Bruce relaxed and closed his eyes. Breathing in the smell of the ocean, he took a second to center himself and mentally assessed how he felt. "Just ask first if I'm about to lose control before shooting me again. I haven't been near that point yet since this entire nightmare began. Have I been angry? Very; I've had an anger problem since well before the Hulk. But I've also had time to get used to both that and the Hulk. I can't say that I _like_ it, but there's a certain level of acceptance now. If you treat me, well, not an equal, but as an adult, we'll both find everything going easier. It isn't like I haven't had experience before with going on the run. I've just had to do it on my own."

"Point," Clint turned around to lean against the railing. "I'll remember that. And in the name of honesty, we're heading out first thing tomorrow morning." He glanced at Bruce out of the corner of his eye. "Much as I may hate the idea, we're going to my place for a couple days. It's a better way to regroup and plan out our next move."


	7. Chapter 7

Sometimes relaxation needs a push of the four-legged sort. Thanks to the folks at The Beta Branch who are betaing this!

* * *

"Home sweet home," Clint nodded as the three entered the small building. "Dog stays inside or in the back, and don't feed him. Shaina keeps saying that he'll get fat, even though he's already bigger than Stark's ego. What else." He frowned slightly as he headed for a staircase. "Eh, I'll remember eventually."

Natasha was looking around curiously. "You've repainted?"

"Yeah, folks were saying that the old color was depressing. Held a vote, threw out any color you'd find in a kindergarten or preschool classroom, and finally put my foot down when it looked like the discussions would go on for a year. Did the floors at the same time." Clint shrugged as he banged on a door. "Pigeon delivery!"

Bruce looked around as he heard a door open and footsteps on the stairs. "Mister Clint!" The voice had him glancing over as a woman climbed up the stairs. "Power went out again the other day. Can't you fix it?"

"Power company's been out, they say they can't find anything wrong. Same with the electricians, all three of them. Why I gave everybody battery-operated clocks and flashlights." Clint grinned helplessly. "What else can I do?"

"Fix it," the woman sniffed. "And I got another dog. Put the deposit under your door, along with her paperwork."

"How big is this one?" Clint glanced at the door he'd knocked on. "You know I need to have _some_ limits here, Shaina."

"Only about 50 pounds. Vet says she needs to be bigger, though. She's a Great Dane mix."

"Trained?"

"You _know_ I said I'd pay to replace the carpets and paint my apartment myself, Mister Clint. She only barks a little and loves the kids from upstairs."

"Two's the max. And you come across any other strays, you know that I know that you've got connections to rescue groups. I'm not turning the place into an animal shelter. Dog stays on a leash or in your apartment until she's totally trained and I've had a chance to meet her, and if anybody complains, we'll have to rethink everything. Cool?"

"I'll bring her up. Although might need some help getting her back down the stairs." The woman shook her head and turned around. "You sure you don't want one? I know a person who's got a really sweet foster, just needs a real home?"

"_No_, Shaina," Clint sighed. "My schedule is too crazy for anything other than a few plants, and I'm not even sure about those anymore." Jerking his head at Bruce and Natasha, he picked up his bag and headed back to the stairs. "They're not here. Let's go."

Bruce shook his head as Clint opened a door. "I really can't reconcile seeing you as a SHIELD agent and owning an apartment building in Brooklyn."

Natasha stepped over the pile of envelopes with a small snort. "Clint, I don't think your house sitter does a very good job. Aren't they supposed to move the mail?"

"Kid is twelve, Nat, I'm not holding her to very high standards. If she just wants to take the plants with her and not set foot in here, I'm not going to stress. I'm just happy that she remembers to actually grab my mail from downstairs and followed my request about the electricity." Clint knelt down and quickly gathered up the pile. "Bruce, why not? Sure, people don't exactly think of Bed-Stuy as the most _logical_, but it works, I like the people, and the gangs mostly moved out a while ago. And there are two subway lines not too far away."

"As much as you like people," Natasha called out from the kitchen. "Clint, you have nothing to eat. Is the corner market still open?"

"Yeah," Clint wandered into the kitchen, flipping through the envelopes. "You going?"

"Of course." Bruce just listened as he followed the two in from the hall. Settling down on the couch, he quietly dug the loaned laptop out of his own bag. Tony had given him copies of all the Helicarrier data, and Bruce was aching to find out where the numbers were wrong. "Bruce, do you have any requests from the store?"

"Oh, ah, nothing special, thanks." Bruce went back to his work, only to be interrupted by a rather large dog head landing in his lap.

"She likes you." The woman from earlier – Shaina, Bruce guessed – was standing by the door with her arms crossed. "Want a dog?"

"That, Shaina, is not a dog," Clint said firmly. "That's a horse. Does she even fit in your apartment?"

"Tiny fits just fine. Bruce still doesn't know what to think of her, but there's enough space."

Bruce glanced over, started to hear his name. As he sat up straight, the dog took the opportunity to climb on the couch and flopped down, head landing back in Bruce's lap. "None of that," he said firmly. "Dogs shouldn't be on furniture." He slipped his hand under the dog's muzzle, only to be startled when it let out a low moan and closed its eyes. "Um?"

"See?" Bruce was suddenly the focus of two sets of eyes. Clint looked amused, Shaina triumphant. "She likes him! What's his name?"

"Bruce," the two men said at the same time. Clint continued, "He's not staying long, and doesn't live in New York. And _Tiny_?"

"She is tiny. Only 55 pounds, poor dear, she needs to be twice that. Bring her downstairs later, I need to run out for a couple things before my shows."

As the door clicked shut, Clint stared at Bruce and the dog. "They're not all like that, really." He snapped his fingers. "Oh yeah. That was the other thing. If they're under the age of 18, nobody can touch the bows or be in here in places other than the living room, kitchen, and bathroom." Glancing over the space left on the couch, he shrugged and dumped the mail on the table. "Want anything to drink? I've got water."

"Water sounds good." Bruce glanced down at the head in his lap. He was startled at the way the dog was looking at him. "Tiny is a terrible name for you." He smiled slightly at the light woof the dog gave, as if it was agreeing with him. "Does this normally happen?" He called out, reaching for his laptop.

"Does what normally happen?" Clint came back into the room, balancing two glasses and a plate. "Me bringing my work home? Generally only paperwork and weapons. Not a houseguest – the only other visitor I've actually had is Natasha. The tenants dropping creatures off and telling me I need a pet? Constantly. When I'm here, feels like I'm a damn petsitter." He gave Bruce a narrow look as he set the plate on the table. "How are you feeling?" He turned and headed back towards the kitchen.

"Surprisingly relaxed," Bruce glanced down at the dog. "I don't think I've felt this way since you showed up on my porch." He caught the way the dog was managing to eye the plate without moving its head and shook his head in mild amusement. "Although I would like to get an idea as to when all this might be cleared up."

"Soon, I hope. Tony was putting his new skills to use." Clint set a bowl of water on the floor. "And we can get rid of Fido in a little bit." He caught the glances from Bruce and the dog. "Tiny, and isn't that a _stupid_ name, stuff on the floor is for you."

"Ah." Bruce finally managed to figure out how to use the computer with a dog hanging over his lap and fell back into working. "Clint, either something's wrong with the notes that your nuclear people are keeping, Tony grabbed the wrong numbers, the data was corrupted, or you've got a bunch of, well, idiots working for you."

"Oh?" Clint glanced up curiously from where he was glancing over papers. "Why do you say that?"

"Because," Bruce swung the laptop around and pointed at the screen. "One plus one generally does not equal three in this type of math. In this situation, you use basic arithmetic." He leaned forward, only to stop at a low groan from the dog. "Sorry," he absentmindedly said. "So if this is wrong, I shudder to think of what else is wrong with the nuclear capabilities on the Helicarrier."

"You really should come work for SHIELD, Bruce." Clint shook his head. "Or at least sign on as a consultant – Tony does. Take a real vacation, come help get everything fixed, and get paid for it."

"I don't see how working would be a real vacation," Bruce reclaimed his computer. "A real vacation is something like going off into the middle of nowhere and relaxing. And I really don't like being stuck in a tin can flying at 30,000 feet; it's stressful and I put up with it because it's the fastest way to travel these days. Only thing worse would be a submarine."

"Yeah, I saw the video of your rampage through the ship last year," Clint didn't sound like he was paying attention to Bruce. "And I'll get in touch with Jasper and see if he can get you the data through proper channels, not Tony's back door hack."

"When will people realize that I am _not_ the Hulk," Bruce growled under his breath.

"Maybe when _you_ really, truly realize that he really is part of you. A part of you that you'd love to get rid of, yeah, but still part of you. Not to mention, Bruce, he's _smart_. It's just when he can't control _his_ temper that there are problems." Clint sounded frustrated. "For somebody who's so _smart_…no." He stood up. "Stay there," he ordered as he headed for what Bruce assumed was a bedroom, muttering under his breath.

"Well then," Bruce murmured down to the dog. The dog just sighed and tried to crawl further into Bruce's lap. "Stop that. You're too big."

"Scientists. Wonder why I even try sometimes, but no, Barton, you have to be stubborn about things," Clint was still muttering as he returned and picked up Bruce's laptop. "Here. A copy of SHIELD's file on you. Don't tell anybody that you've seen this, clear?" He plugged in a flash drive and handed it back.

Bruce started reading as he heard the door open and Natasha's voice. He ignored the conversation the two agents were having, focusing on the sheer amount of information that SHIELD had gathered about him. It was startling, he realized, seeing how far back they'd gone, while at the same time fascinating as to how in depth they'd managed to go. Finally giving up on being gentle with the dog, Bruce lightly shoved at her shoulder as he stood up.

"I would like to know how many people have seen this," Bruce stood in the kitchen doorway. "Because I'm feeling confused."

"That version?" Clint glanced at Natasha. Almost nervously, Bruce thought. "Me, Nat, Phil, Fury…"

"Maybe ten people have seen it in completion and know who it's about. But there are very strict penalties for talking," Natasha cut in smoothly. Bruce suddenly realized that the two agents had misunderstood him. A flash of amusement had him deciding to just play along. "Most things gathered for profiles are not common knowledge; I doubt that the average person at SHIELD would even know who you are. Clint should not have even taken that much data with him."

"Toss me under the bus, why don't you," Clint muttered. "Fine. Yes, Bruce, SHIELD looks heavily into backgrounds. There's a personality profile in there on you; where I'd've started reading, actually. If you're interested, a few scientists have a couple theories floating around as to why that much gamma radiation didn't kill you. I guess you didn't get to that part yet."

"I didn't get that far, no. And talking with your scientists about their theories sounds interesting, so yes, I'd like to talk with them eventually. But considering how in depth everything went, and just now finding out that 'maybe' ten people have seen all this?" Bruce didn't realize that he was petting the dog until the smooth velvet of its fur registered in his mind. "I'm just curious, honestly."

"Why me," Clint groaned and dropped his head into his hands. Natasha lightly patted his shoulder with a small smile and wink at Bruce. "Nat, back me up here."

"I was taken from my family at a young age and raised to be a spy and assassin; one of the best in the world. However, I am quick to judge and sometimes have trouble changing my opinions, even when I am quite clearly in the wrong. I am rarely wrong, regardless of what people may say. Clint is an ex-con, former carnival act who is one of SHIELD's finest, but he never washes his socks and likes to eat cereal. Constantly. How he's survived this long on a diet of Fruit Loops, I don't know. He snores." Natasha deftly avoided Clint's waving hand. "SHIELD has tracked you ever since your accident, Bruce, which is another reason why we know so much about you."

"Nat, shut up," Clint pleaded. "Not helping."

"Helping," Natasha corrected. "Right, Bruce? Now that you know some of the secrets of the people who know yours? And," she added dryly, "If you think _your_ file looks bad, you should see Tony Stark's. Or Steve Rogers'. Now those are men who took a while to profile, and I am not completely sure that Tony's is accurate anymore."

"I really _didn't_ need to learn all that," Bruce started, "But you're right, it is helping. Especially since all this," he held up the laptop, "Isn't common knowledge. And I'm not upset. Much."

"We're not about to go singing things from rooftops, Bruce. SHIELD is pretty private." Clint looked at the scientist. "Nosy? Very. We just need to have all the information so that we can try to avoid potential triggers if we have to work with you again. Now that we _know_ that you've got control over the Hulk and won't unwillingly change unless you're really stressed, that's going to go in there too and Nat and I won't have to dance on eggshells."

"I don't dance on eggshells around anybody," Natasha lightly nudged Clint's shoulder. "And stop being so melodramatic. He said that he's not upset, and I decided to even everything out a little when it came to learning about the two of us. Or mostly you, actually, since you're the one who isn't thinking straight. Who is the dog?"

"Not staying." Clint snapped his fingers at the dog. "C'mon you, Shaina should be back by now. I should still have," he trailed off, slowing turning to stare at the cupboards, before quickly moving to one and pulling out a box. "There. Okay, you behave and I'll give you a treat." Pulling a set of keys off a hook he headed for the door. "And discretion being the better part of valor, I'm removing myself from this situation before you embarrass me even more."

"Tell me," Natasha mused as Clint vanished. "What is it with men and your posturing?"

"Psychological. It can be traced back throughout history." Bruce sat down at the small table in the kitchen, going back to reading everything that SHIELD had dug up about him. "Even though I'm firmly of the opinion that you may have gone to extremes in what you've discovered. My shoe size is not something that should be thrown about."

He didn't see Natasha roll her eyes. "_Men_," she muttered, making it sound like a curse.

"Then maybe you tell me why it was so important to go so far back?" Bruce looked at Natasha. "I _had_ a security clearance; they only went back ten years. Not all the way back to when I was 18."

"That, I don't know." Natasha tilted her head to one side. "I suspect that it's routine and that if you looked further, you'll have found that your clearance level has increased; they did the same with Tony and Steve, as well as a few other select individuals that you truly do not have the clearance to learn about. I would like to suggest that you save up your annoyances and take them out on Fury when you get a chance to see him. If you ask nicely, Clint and I might even be willing to hold him down for you." She lightly huffed. "I was _supposed_ to be on a beach in France right now. But instead, I'm back in New York."

Bruce slowly nodded. "I'll pass on that, but I'm not blaming you two for doing your jobs. I can't, and never have. The level of overreaction towards me and my connection with the Other Guy you two have shown I'm a little upset about, but you didn't know and didn't believe me at first, obviously. I'm just trying to reconcile the fact that Clint acts like he wants to be friendly one minute, and then turns around and says that he doesn't bring work home with him. This – _me_ – is quite obviously work. And when you're by yourself, cereal or toast is easier than cooking a full meal."

"Clint has some of the worst interpersonal skills ever known to man. Mine aren't much better at times." Natasha was slowly moving around the kitchen, putting things away. "He acts the way people want him to act, but he hasn't yet figured out how you want him to act. He thinks you want something more than simply being honest and not jumping to conclusions. I," she turned and smiled brightly at Bruce, "Know better. I'll talk to him, just like I'm talking to you, and remember, tomorrow is another day. Although I don't think you survive on Fruit Loops. You look to be more of a person who eats toast or at the school cafeteria."

"How?" Bruce muttered, before starting to read faster. If they'd written down the contents of his _kitchen_…

"I know how to read people, Bruce. Plus, you are an older, single male who is unquestionably not adventurous – it is obvious that you choose your place and then just want to stay there – and are decidedly more mature than some. From there, I guess." Natasha leaned against the counter with a small shrug. "It's a living. And," she smiled, "I enjoyed playing with Clint's head just now. Thank you; it was very relaxing. Not as good as that beach, but a decent second place option."

"Dammit, Nat, part of that playing people game is to _not_ say it's a game where the people who don't know it's a game can hear. This long, you'd think that you'd've learned that." Clint was standing in the door. "By the way," he held up his phone, "Jasper called. He's sending me some decent data for you, Bruce, and he and Blake tracked down a couple odd transmissions to and from Ross that they're trying to work out; he's sending that so we can take a look also."

Bruce caught the smug smile as Natasha turned her back on Clint. "She's good. She was playing both of us."

"There are many reasons she has the codename Black Widow." Clint sat down at the table. "She does stuff like that. Should see her fighting. It's _fascinating_, the moves she can pull off. Most people couldn't." He laughed. "Although I'm wondering why I didn't see it faster."

"You were distracted." Natasha pulled out a pot and filled it with water. "Start working; the sooner we can figure this out the sooner Bruce can go back to his life."

"Nag nag nag," Clint grinned at Bruce as he stood up. "Yes, _Mother_."

Bruce laughed, feeling fully relaxed for the first time in – weeks, he supposed. Suddenly this entire debacle took on the feeling of a vacation and he made the silent vow to keep on treating it like one unless Ross became involved again. "May I check my e-mail, too?"

"Don't have wireless access here." Clint shook his head. "I'll hook you up later, if that's okay."

"You don't have wireless?" Bruce blinked. "_Everybody_ has wireless these days."

"Don't forget, Bruce, Clint is old fashioned enough to use bows and arrows," Natasha said lightly. "And-" a knock and a muffled shout had her glancing towards the front door. "Why pigeons, Clint?"

"That's Kate," Clint said as he dug his wallet out of his pocket. "And I don't know, it was something that she started when I moved in here and asked her to grab my mail and water the plants when I'm gone. I just run with it." He paused, staring pointedly at Natasha. "Nobody changes my stuff. I _like_ how I live."

* * *

Bruce quietly worked at the table, watching out of the corner of his eye as the two SHIELD agents moved through the kitchen. After Natasha had turned on the radio they didn't say a word and barely looked at each other, but somehow Clint knew where Natasha was going to be as he held out a can, and he was just there when Natasha tossed a jar of spaghetti sauce over her shoulder. It was an intricate dance, and one that spoke of how close their partnership really was. He'd never been as close to Betty as those two appeared to be to each other, and he was surprised to feel a faint flicker of jealousy even as he settled back further in his seat to enjoy what he was seeing.

"Hey, Bruce." Clint's voice had Bruce starting slightly. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"A little jealous, actually." The admission had Natasha looking over curiously. "Just watching you two work together; makes me think of what-ifs."

"We've had practice," was all that Natasha said, turning back to the stove.

"Although not a lot in kitchens," Clint said, dropping silverware on the table. Bruce responded to the unspoken request and started setting places. "But there is some crossover from being in the field to making dinner." He moved to stand next to Natasha, taking the piece of spaghetti she handed him. "Good enough, Nat. Thanks, Bruce. Didn't have to do that."

"Earning my keep," Bruce said lightly. "Didn't you say that you had questions for Eric? Do you think that I could help you out with them?"

"Of course," Clint glanced at Bruce out of the corner of his eye. "I've got an arrow design that has been bugging me for a while, but there's something that just doesn't work out all that well in reality. And before you ask, I wasn't about to ask Tony; man doesn't have any idea of boundaries sometimes."

Bruce chuckled. "The tower?"

"Tower?" Natasha asked as she brought food over to the table and Clint nodded. "What tower?"

"Stark Tower has been remodeled to give us each our own personal floor to live on." Clint rolled his eyes. "Why, I don't know. He either has knowledge that we don't or just wanted to waste his money."

"He's lonely," Natasha said. "Only Bruce can truly compare to him when it comes to intelligence, and he has spent so much of his adult life acting the playboy that he only has a few friends. Happy died, as well, which took away one of those friends. I can't blame him for wanting to reach out to others."

"He started planning it after the alien attack, though," Bruce pointed out.

"And I worked with him while you were on your way back from Brazil. I was to evaluate him for the Avenger's Initiative," Natasha stated as she sat down. "Even then, he surrounded himself with sycophants and yes-men and acted the child in public. In private you could see how much he was hurting."

"Still," Clint said. "Wasted his money." He just stared back at Natasha. "You don't like to be tied down to one place, you know that you've got my spare bedroom here, and I've seen your space at headquarters." He glanced at Bruce. "I like my space here, but her quarters," he whistled. "Total luxury. Oh yeah. One other thing. You can have the couch, or space on my floor."

"Since Natasha says that you snore," Bruce felt the corner of his mouth quirk up at Clint's snort, "I'll take the couch."

"No." Natasha held out a basket of rolls. "Clint or I will take the couch, and Bruce can have the free bed. Fewer points of access."

Clint sighed. "Which means I get the couch. At least it's comfortable. Bruce, don't worry, everything's clean. Cleaner than Nat keeps things, that's for sure."

"Because I have you to clean up after me. Now stop talking and eat your dinner, the both of you. There's a movie on tonight that I want to watch." Natasha didn't give the men a chance to object as she dumped food on their plates. "Bruce, I hope you aren't a vegetarian. My memory is shoddy on that front."


End file.
